


The Wide World Over

by Mari_who



Category: Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: Ancient History, Bronze Age, Consensual Sex, F/M, Gen, Mortality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 23,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23024008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mari_who/pseuds/Mari_who
Summary: Persephone says goodbye.For now.
Relationships: Hades/Persephone (Lore Olympus), Persephone (Lore Olympus)/other
Comments: 86
Kudos: 183





	1. Goodbye And Other Messages

**Author's Note:**

> This work contains scenes that may be triggering for some people.

PLEASE READ THIS

Persephone@underworld.com

To Demeter@BarleyMother.com; Hades@underworld.com; Hecate@underworld.com; Huntress1@godmail.com; UrMailBoi@godmail.com; Eros_Arrows@godmail.com; Kindly1_Meg@underworld.com

Hello everyone.

I hope you don't mind all getting a single email. I was going to write everyone separately but I have to talk about some painful stuff and I just couldn't face doing it seven times in a row.

First I want to thank you all so much for your help and support through the trial. It was hard on all of us but we did get justice and I'm so relieved. I still feel guilty for dragging you all into this mess (and I can hear some of you arguing with me about that already!) and really, just… so, so grateful that you were all with me in my 'darkest hours'.

So.

I'm gonna go away for a while.

Please don't be upset or worried! I'm not going to do anything crazy or dangerous. It's just been a lot. Even with all the trial stuff over with, I still have a lot of anxiety and tension sticking with me, and I need to get away from all that before I can be at my best for work and school and everything.

I know you have already done so much for me, and it's unfair to ask for more, but this is the last thing I need:

Please don't try to find me.

I will be in touch! I will check my email every day, I promise. I'm going to - please don't be hurt by this but I'm blocking everyone's calls and texts except for Eros who I have already discussed all this with so if there is a really real emergency he can reach me but DO NOT BULLY HIM ABOUT WHERE I AM OR TO GET IN TOUCH WITH ME FOR LESS THAN AN EMERGENCY! He does NOT know where I'm going. 

I need some time with just myself. Everything's changed so much in the short time since I moved to Olympus. I need to figure out who I am, now. That looks super melodramatic but I can't think of another way to say it, so there it is. I'm going to travel incognito and see some places I haven't seen before!

Mom:

I love you so much

I know you're probably really mad about this and I know it's because you love me and are worried about me. I hope you can forgive this someday. 

I can't be your perfect daughter forever. I don't want to be. It feels like being a dried flower pressed flat in a book.

I need room to grow.

Artemis:

I don't know if you'll read this, what with everything that happened. If you do I hope you will find it in your heart someday to forgive me for what I did. I never wanted to hurt you. But I respect your feelings. Eros can come out and get my stuff if you don't want me staying with you after I come back. Which I would understand. I left care instructions for my plants and some money to cover rent while I'm gone so you can pass those on to Eros too if need be. 

I'm so glad you were my friend.

The rest of you - I care about you all and I will miss you! But this isn't forever! I'll be back before you know it :)

With so much love,  
Persephone

PS Hades I'm sorry I need this leave of absence from my internship. If you need to find someone else to fill the position I understand. I hope you will forgive my unprofessionalism not giving two weeks notice but I think you would try to stop me.

PPS please hug Cerberus for me.

PPPS this isn't your fault.

PPPPS (ok last one I promise): Hecate please...look after everything. You know what I mean.


	2. Clans of the Great Grass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Persephone travels and meets the people of the north.

She sat on the roof of Artemis' place with her phone in one hand, looking up at the stars, and allowed herself five minutes to vacillate. 

It hadn't even been a year since she left her mother's house and it had already been the hardest year of her life. She felt wrung out and colorless, soul-tired.

Time to dip before she lost the ability to feel anything ever again. But Fates, it would be so _easy_ to talk herself out of it! 

Hades, she thought. I'm going to miss you awfully. 

Her phone chimed its little repeating song. Five minutes up. Time to really do this.

She pushed Send, turned off the phone and tucked it away in the packed bag next to her. Exhaled forcefully. Rubbed her eyes.

Stood up, hoisted her bag over one shoulder, and rose from the balcony like a rocket, without looking back.

It was time to escape Persephone.

***

She landed in a copse of trees in the Mortal realm some hours later. A little pool of water there let her check her disguise. Liquid brown eyes under a head full of fat black curls, a freckled face in warm tones. Mortal clothes in muted colors, suited for travelling on foot. It wasn't spring currently, but being back amidst so much life was a joy in any season. 

The sun broke over the horizon, highlighting wisps of fog in the vale before her. There were rabbits feeding in the grass; birds began their chorusing above her; somewhere nearby running water was burbling and chuckling, heard but not yet seen.

She smiled, and set off walking.

The stream made its appearance only a few minutes later, peeping out from a heavy fringe of tall grasses. Persephone followed its course as it meandered across an open land of low, rolling, grassy hills. This was far northeast - further in the mortal world than she’d ever been - and she didn’t know anything about the area really, only that the people there called themselves Thraki and buried their dead in great earthen mounds. (The things you learn working in the Underworld.)

So far away, but still everything was familiar. The ground was still ground, the plants hardly different from those she had known in childhood. Swift birds flitting above her sang the same songs. 

After a few hours of walking, when the sun was blazing at its apex, Persephone stopped to soak her feet in the cool stream, and fell quite asleep there.

A scream woke her.

She jumped up half-blind with sleep and fell straight into the stream with a great splash, and came back up yelling and spluttering. A crowd of women and barefoot children surrounded her, laughing. The children in particular were prostrate with laughter, rolling on the grassy streambed.

One of the laughing women wiped her eyes, then stepped down into the water and helped Persephone up. "Sorry!" She said, "We came down to wash the clothes and my sister was startled to find you! She is scared by everything! There, are you all right? Euxinos, run and get the lady a robe from my things! Let's get you dry again before you catch sick! Oh, my…"

The woman was tall and rangy, with strong hands and thick brown hair tied up out of the way atop her head; she wore a coarse tunic and trousers decorated with red embroidery, and looked like she was thinking deeply, even with her distracted smile and comforting patter of words. 

She brought Persephone up from the streambed, where, sometime during her nap, a whole city of people had emerged from the grass, like magic.

Tents were being raised, simple pyramidal ones and family-sized domes: children were gathering river rocks to make fire pits, or filling leather buckets at the stream, or playing with the dogs that had come with these people, lean dun-colored hounds that leapt and ran and rolled in the grass with tongues lolling and big doggy grins. Tall men with beards and copper armlets were shouting orders and leading horses whose manes were braided with colored thread and little chiming bells. 

It was a merry chaos, and Persephone was bewildered and charmed by it.

The woman helping her picked up her bag and led them to a small tent, and pushed her into it with a bundle of cloth. "Change, and we'll set your things out to dry in the sun," she said. 

The linen robe was worn, but clean; and too large, but that was better by far than too small. The woman (and a few curious girls who had gathered) laughed when Persephone came back out rolling up the sleeves, and helped her tie a braided cord around her waist and tuck the excess fabric up around it to keep from tripping on the hem. The girls chattered as they braided her hair into a coronet.

"There! Now! I am Silvanie, and we are the Iroshi tribe and our cousins the Doxsa and Ferox; we are traveling to the summer trade meet in the north. Who are you, then, and why are you all alone? That is not safe!"

Fortunately she had her story prepared. "My name is Ara, and you see...I'm an orphan," she lied with downcast eyes, and her audience sighed and murmured with gratifying sympathy. "I have an uncle, but he is a bad man. He said I would be his third wife! So I ran away. That was a week ago. I had a donkey but I lost it...so I've just been walking."

After a somber pause, she glanced up.

Not a dry eye in the crowd.

Perfect.

***

After that, everyone was very kind to her. Soon she was surrounded by an entourage of curious children and happy dogs, and they led her around, introducing her to people; stern men whose faces split into unexpected grins when the children stampeded them, heavily pregnant women sitting on rugs as they mended clothes with bone needles, or stirred great earthen pots of grain-rich stew. One of the tents was huge and open all along one side, so that (it was explained to her) anyone in the clan could approach their leaders with questions or concerns; there was little real formality as everyone was related. A leather-faced older woman with a simple bronze circlet was the matriarch, and she sat sternly on a camp stool in the big tent and wrote slowly on a papyrus scroll. The men deferred to her.

A glad cry arose from the crowd as two horsemen crested the nearest hill, with a dead hart on a rough sledge behind them. The men were tall but beardless, just in their early adulthood, and they puffed up proudly at the adulation they received, particularly from the young women. One had a blazing crop of red hair that apparently made him a crowd favorite; Persephone thought of Hermes, and laughed a little.

They began butchering the hart right away, so she nonchalantly wandered to the other end of camp. A tent stood a little away from the rest here, an upended cone of dark furs. The white horse tethered nearby serenely cropped at the long grass, its warm dark eye noticing Persephone's existence but finding her unworthy of reaction.

It felt darker here - though the sun had not yet set, and 'feeling' darkness made no sense. Still, she moved away just as she had left the butchering, uncomfortable and unsure.

***

Fires blazed as the sun went down. The women clustered around great boiling pots of stew from the day's catch, tasting and adding and bickering good-naturedly. Men were tending to the horses, telling stories, drinking deep from skins being passed around (to the adults only, so she assumed it was wine.) Older children were doing camp chores and oversaw the younger ones who stampeded around like a child-flood, a babble of piping voices and barking dogs, scattering when an adult shooed them out from underfoot, only to re-form seconds later. It was rough, and loud, and wonderful.

Back in her original clothes, Persephone had been given a place in Silvanie's tent to stow her bag, and been set down to pick stones out of a large bag of dried lentils, a mindless task but a welcome one as it let her listen in on the conversations around her. Everyone was talking about the trade meet, and how much money they hoped to make, or how much drinking they meant to do. Several men in the clans were looking for brides; apparently marriages and betrothal were big trademeet business, as most clans were familial, and bringing new blood (and new skills and alliances) into one's clan was desirable, as were women one hadn't already known all one's life.

Dinner was just as busy as the day had been. People ate and talked, diced or arm-wrestled by fire light, and there was much laughter and much argument. Persephone managed to find a dish of herbed lentils that didn't contain meat, and ate until she could eat no more. 

Music started after the food, as she was reclining in the sweet-smelling grass, and everyone got up to dance. Singing and hand-clapping and twirling together. Young men tested themselves by jumping over the main fire - the redheaded hunter from earlier among them. Many girls danced with him afterward. 

A boy of maybe 12 came up to Persephone and fumbled his way through asking her to dance, so sweetly that she said yes, and they did their turn together to the sound of pipes and a deftly played tortoiseshell lyre, and the rhythmic clapping of the crowd, and many voices raised in song together, filling the night air, filling her heart.

***

Safe in Silvanie's tent that night, with a warm pile of snoring children and dogs around her, Persephone quietly dug her phone out of the bottom of her bag, and checked it. And winced. So many emails. Honestly, this was as hard as leaving had been.

She glanced around to ensure no-one had woken up to catch her, and began composing replies.


	3. Working

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Persephone starts to find her place among the clans.

A great hubbub woke her the next day as Silvanie rousted children and dogs out of the tent. There were food smells from outside, and the sounds of horses.

"Good morning!" Silvanie said, as Persephone rose yawning from her pallet. "Today you will speak with Ilea who is our clan leader. It is she who will decide what is to be done with you. That is right after the noontime meal. Until then, you may stay here in my tent, or go around the camp, only do not interfere with anyone who is working. Or there are plenty of tasks to be done if you want to help again! Makes the day go faster!"

She ended up back at the stream, scrubbing out the big pots with handfuls of wet sand. Children splashed naked in the water, chasing frogs and minnows. The sky was a sweet, aching blue overhead.

While she worked, she thought.

Last night's messages had been as fraught as she expected. Mother's was long and cadenced exactly like the angry lectures Persephone had sat through over and over growing up. She'd sent barely three lines in reply - I love you, I'm safe, I'll be back. There would never be acceptance there; why tear herself apart trying to get it?

Sweet but exasperated things from Eros because of COURSE everyone had descended on him once they knew she was really gone, but he said he'd stood strong for her, and she believed. He always had. Hecate was warmer than Demeter and wished her good luck; Meg and Hermes were breathlessly enthusiastic about her escape to adventure; Artemis said...nothing at all.

Hades hadn't _said_ anything, but he sent a picture of Cerberus, flopped on the couch, with a pomelia blossom behind one ear and a sculpted blue forearm slung around his neck.

But really, that said enough.

Persephone smiled at the thought, and sighed, and began wrestling the next pot into scrubbing position. Honestly, it was almost big enough to hold _her_. Nomading must be hungry work. 

Someone jumped into the water beside her with a great splash; it was the redheaded hunter, stripped to the waist with his leggings rolled up, and he helped her move the pot without a word. Close up, he was a little younger than she'd thought - maybe a year younger than she was - sunburned across his cheeks and the bridge of a crooked nose, with a wide smiling mouth and just a hint of beard starting to show. 

"Sorza," he introduced himself, once the pot was settled, and he plopped down on the bank next to her. "And you're Ara, the fugitive! Silvanie told us all about you last night. That was my brother Huren you danced with."

She smiled at his guileless enthusiasm. "Good to meet you, Sorza. And congratulations on your successful hunt yesterday!"

He squinted up at the sun, and laughed. “That was the first one I shot myself! It was a good day.” A sly glance her way. “I would have caught more but I didn’t… _have the hart_.”

She snort-laughed into the pot, which made it echo, which got them both laughing for a minute. “Ugh, that was _terrible_! What do you do when you aren’t hunting or making bad jokes?”

“That was an excellent joke,” he said. “And…I don’t know. Whatever I want? Whatever Ilea tells us to do? I take care of Zoras, my horse. He is the best horse! And I ride perimiter scout when we’re travelling. I teach archery to some of the younger boys…”

“Not the girls?” She asked. “The best archer I ever knew was a girl.”

He looked at her skeptically but didn’t object, and Persephone was glad, since she probably shouldn’t have said anything about her life before. 

“I have to meet Ilea soon,” she said. “What’s she like?”

“Oh…” he shrugged. “She’s not so bad. The men say she is a mean woman, but that’s just because she wouldn’t ever take a husband, and that is strange here. But she is fair, and works as hard as anyone else. Don’t tell lies or be too lazy and she won’t bother you.”

“That’s good to know,” she said, and sighed. “I don’t know what she’ll want me to do. I don’t know what I want to do, except not go back.”

The pot was scoured clean, so he helped her roll it back up onto the bank; and it was almost noon, when, he told her, there would be a light meal for everyone. “Plants,” he said with a wrinkled face. 

They were served a pasty bean spread, layered on warm flatbread, and boiled eggs; and they ate sprawled on the grass like children.

After the meal, most napped right where they were; the sun was high and everything seemed slower, flies looping lazily around the horses, the dogs congregating down at the stream where they could roll in the shallows to cool off. But Silvanie came up, wiping her hands with a cloth, and gestured for Persephone to follow her.

She was absurdly nervous, considering her hidden nature meant she could leave at literally any time. But that seemed like cheating, somehow. When they came up to the big open-sided tent she lagged behind Silvanie a little, eyes downcast.

“Ilea, this is the girl,” Silvanie said.

Looking up, Persephone found herself intensely scrutinized by the woman, coal-black eyes sizing her up, as if measuring her worth in drachma. It was an uncomfortably frank examination, from her toes to her hair, and she wondered if this is how goats felt when the herder picked a fat one out for dinner. 

“What can you do, girl?” Ilea said with little inflection. It reminded her of Hecate, somehow.

“I can cook,” she said, and took a deep breath. “Vegetables anwyay. I can sew. I’m good with growing things…”

“We’re travelers, not gardeners,” Ilea said dismissively. “If you’re willing to work - Silvanie tells me you have been so far - you can come with us as far as the trademeet. There are a few more stationary clans who might have use of that skill. Is anyone likely to come looking for you?”

“No,” she answered quickly, and hoped it was true. Ilea’s black eyes bored through her, and the older woman frowned a little.

“Well. If they do, I think we can handle one gross uncle and his undoubtedly grosser friends,” she said. Then she turned away dismissively and picked up a parchment. “Go on,” she said after a moment’s confused silence. “We’re done.”

There was a sudden howl from one end of the camp, startling Persephone and Silvanie, but Ilea rolled her eyes and didn’t budge from her work. “That will be Arthis,” she said. “Better go keep people calm. It won’t be long, she pops out babies like shelling a pea. Two yells and a push and it’s over.”

Silvanie muttered something that might have been a curse, and jogged away toward the commotion. Persephone, curious, kept up; she’d never been present at a mortal birthing before. 

Fifteen minutes later she came walking back out of the tent with a blank expression, and went back to the stream to just… sit for a while.

I hope god births aren’t like that, she thought eventually, when she could think again.

***

That night the clans celebrated the birth of a healthy boy, a new rider for the family. More music, more dancing, flowers gathered to heap around the new mother where she reclined on a grass-stuffed cushion and half slept through the whole thing with her little baby at her breast. There was a fast circle dance, all the women holding hands and singing, and when it was over Persephone was tired and laughing. One of the men handed her the skin that was being passed around, and she drank deeply, expecting wine. Scorching fire erupted in her throat. She heard laughing as she choked, and someone steadied her. It was Sorza, she saw once the tears were wiped away and she could breathe again. “You all right?” he asked, a little concerned, a little amused. “Don’t feel bad. The first time they let me drink it I fell down.”

“I thought it was wine!” She coughed, and then laughed. 

“Here, this is just water.” She sipped carefully, but he was right, and the cool water soothed the fire away.

“Come with me,” he said.

They walked together through the camp, in and out of the shadows of tents cast by the cookfires. The sun had gone down long ago, and the food had already been eaten, but people still crowded around the fires singing and telling stories. It was a good way to end a day, Persephone decided; a good way to live, surrounded with your family, going wherever you chose, working and playing in equal measure. Surrounded by the open sky.

She looked at Sorza and saw a puffiness on the right side of his face. Pulling him to a stop, she turned his head towards her and examined the growing bruise around his eye.

“I got in a fight,” he admitted. “I won it, though.”

“What ever were you fighting about?!” Persephone demanded, and sighed. Much as she was enjoying the travelling life, there were some amenities it lacked, like ice to soothe a bruise. 

“Well. You,” he said, without meeting her eyes.

“What,” she said.

He took her arms and led her into the shadow of one of the bigger tents. Crickets sang in the grass nearby.

“One of the men,” he said quietly. “You know - we’re going to the meet to find brides. One of the men said you’d come to save him the trouble. He said some bad things.”

Oh.

Great.

She put her head in her hands and sighed harshly. Why had she thought she could escape this? She should have gone to a nunnery, or become a hermit, or made her disguise really, really ugly. She leaned against Sorza, and he put faltering arms around her and rubbed her back. “Don’t worry,” he told her. “I won. He won’t bother you. I told him I would shoot him if he did.”

“Thank you,” she said, and snuffled back a tear. “I don’t know why it’s always like this. Maybe I should find a cave to live in.”

“I can’t _hermit_ that,” he told her, deadpan.

“That’s not very con- _solo_ -ing,” she threw back, and then they were both laughing. 

“So. Look,” he said, and rubbed the back of his neck. She was again strongly reminded of Hermes. “If we told people… that you were… you know. With me. They would leave you alone. You wouldn’t have to do anything. I like you. That would at least keep you safe until the trademeet.”

She looked up at him, young and shy as he was, all new muscle and new beard, and only kindness shone in his face; so she hugged him tight and whispered her thanks into his shoulder.

***

There were no messages from her mother that night, or from any of the others except Eros, who hoped she was having fun, and wanted to tell her all about the latest Olympus gossip. She skipped it. 

Hades sent a new picture. All the dogs were clustered together at his feet, and he was reaching down to ruffle Cerberus’ ears. 

“Oh, I miss you,” she sighed.

She dreamed of last night’s celebration, but Hades was there, and they were dancing together in the firelight, with all the dogs joyfully barking and leaping around them, and the stars overhead to see it all.


	4. Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Persephone thinks about power and choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter NC-17 for smut, be thou warned.

Without her phone she would never have been able to keep track of the days.

That was part of Ilea's job; marking the days and mapping their path. Most of the clanspeople were illiterate. Even Ilea wasn't using a real, written language; just a simple system of tallies and pictographs. 

They'd broken camp on the third day after Persephone joined them. Silvanie said they had only stopped for so long because Arthis was about to have her baby. On the way to the trademeet they wouldn't put tents up at all, unless it was raining, and then significantly fewer, and everyone would huddle together to save space and time.

When the big dome tents came down some of their components were used to make shallow wagons, and heavier items like the big pots were lashed in. The sturdiest horses were yoked up and pulled these begrudgingly. 

They traveled eastward, slow.

Sorza stayed as close with her as he could. That made things easier and harder at the same time: the other men looked at her but didn't bother her, but some of the young women grew cold and jealous. It was _very_ tiresome. She wanted to yell at them all, to insist that she be left out of their infuriating reproductive chess game. But they wouldn't understand.

Well, maybe Ilea would. Persephone found herself working near the matriarch one afternoon, mending one of Sorza's tunics, and summoned her courage.

"They tell me you never married," she said.

Ilea glanced at her without moving, just the flicker of a black iris. "Yes." She was trimming reeds into pens, and seemed disinclined to carry the conversation herself.

"Was it hard?" Persephone asked. 

"Was WHAT hard? Never being _in love_? Pffff." Ilea spat disdainfully into the dust. "All you girls think about is love."

"No! I mean - I meant people trying to pressure you. To change your mind. To be…"

"...what they wanted, instead of what I wanted? Oh, yes." Setting her reeds down, Ilea stood and came over to where Persephone sat in the grass. With some creaky mutterings she lowered herself down too. Her black eyes explored Persephone intently. "They're all saying you're with that fool Sorza, but it's a lie, isn't it. He's convenient for you."

Persephone ducked her head. "It was his idea," she said. "I'm not looking to be anyone's third wife...or second, first or only. I just want to… _be_ , without anyone imposing anything on me."

"Should've hid your tits better then," Ilea said, and cawed a laugh at the sky. "I never had any to hide! Lucky me!"

Persephone gasped at the old woman, aghast...and startled herself by laughing too, a brash and cynical laugh that had never come out of her before.

"There," said Ilea when they were calm again. "That's how women laugh about men. They're such children, so self-important, but deep down they just want back on the tit."

"Sorza is a gentleman. And I've...met others who weren't bad."

Ilea shrugged. "Good for you. I never had much use for them. Now here I am, and they think I don't hear them muttering. Mean old woman! No children, no legacy! No children?" She gestured at the rest of camp with a bony hand. "Every soul here is one of my children! Every mile we travel is my legacy! I keep us together, and alive. After I die, they'll pray to me. Ilea Wayfinder."

"My mother wanted me to - to be a priestess...a virgin forever." Persephone sighed. "Maybe I should have. You seem powerful, and people respect you."

Ilea stood up, and leaned back, stretching until every vertebra cracked. "I never got _married,_ " she said mildly. "I never said I was a _virgin_."

Persephone walked away from that conversation with a lot of thinking to do.

 _I am doing my best,_ an email from Hecate read, _but it's been overcast here since you left._

They were coming out of the plains into more hills and forest, trees reaching for the unreachable blue sky. Here was a sort of road, a double track of wheel ruts where others had pulled their wagons before; and they tightened up their grouping, pulling closer together, for fear of wolves or bandits.

Sometimes Sorza would take Persephone with him, lifting her onto the blanket that covered his horse's back and reaching around her for the reins. He taught her how to ride with the reins and how to ride bareback, with just the pressure of her legs signaling turns and pace changes. His horse was lean and beautiful, and seemed as full of energy and daring as he was. 

One night they got caught out when a thunderstorm broke overhead, lashing them with wind and rain. Sorza found them a sheltered hollow in a hill and they pressed in together, soaked to the skin, flinching when lightning lit the sky. She watched him trying to soothe his trembling horse, tying a cloth over its eyes so the bursts of lightning wouldn't startle in into flight; he was kind.

When the thunder faded and the rain eased, he turned back to check on her, and she kissed him.

She couldn't see his face as he pulled back from that first, chaste kiss, but she heard his unsteady and uncertain breathing, felt his stuttering pulse where he leaned against her.

"Ara," he said, "we don't have to."

"Will you think ill of me if I say I want to?" She asked him. "I can't stay forever. But I can stay for now."

"For now," he echoed, and lowered his rain-slick mouth to hers. She parted her lips for him, and hummed encouragement, and felt a slow heat begin to rise in her as their tongues met. 

He was tall and slender; she traced the long muscles in his back, gently raking with her fingernails from shoulders to waist, and felt him groan into her mouth. When he leaned back for breath, she untied the cord of her dress and let it slip from her shoulders. 

_That will need washing,_ a tiny voice in her head whispered, but she paid it no mind. She took Sorza's hands and led them to her bare breasts, and he gasped.

"Ara...I've never done this before," he admitted with a quiet, breathless laugh. He cupped her breasts so gently, letting his fingertips explore their curve and swell, making another quiet sound of surprise when he found her nipples outthrust, hard.

"Oh...you're doing fine," she murmured She felt unexpectedly powerful in this. He was barely younger than her, but she _felt_ so much older. She tangled her fingers in his hair and led his mouth to her breast, shivering at the rasp of stubble across her skin.

"Suck," she told him, and he did. Gently at first, then hungrily, pulling her tight to him as she mewled with pleasure. Her hips pushing forward against his lean stomach, once, twice. His fingers toyed with her other breast, circling and tweaking the nub of it in time with his mouth, and Persephone saw stars.

"That feels so good," she said, dazed and indulgent. "So good, don't stop yet - " 

His left hand was flat against her naked back, long fingers stretching across her shoulder blades, holding her up, caressing; it slipped free and slid slowly down, down until he was cupping the swell of her ass, and he squeezed as he pulled her hard against him.

They cascaded down to the ground together, heedless of the mud. The earth beneath her was warm and so was the soft rain that still fell on and around them.

She could hear him struggling out of his clothes, and grinned in the dark.

He touched her hair, and the side of her face, and began feeling his way further down. "You - you feel so beautiful," he said, and they both laughed. "I mean you ARE beautiful, but you know - "

"I know," she told him, and finding his face, rose up to kiss him again. "You feel beautiful too."

His exploring fingers reached the swell of her stomach, just above the pubic bone. A hot flush ran through her and she took a deep, anticipatory breath. "A little lower…" she told him. 

He spread her open so gently, exploring with just the tips of two fingers. She was gasping and shivering beneath him, beginning to come apart, but something in her noticed that he was paying attention; repeating things she liked, listening when she said _lower_ or _faster_ or _yes yes right there don't stop_

At her pleading instruction he turned his hand palm-up and pressed two fingers deep into her, feeling the soft ridges against the pads of his fingertips and the way her inner muscles clenched around him; and sliding down along her body, he pressed a kiss to her mons and then rolled his tongue over her clit. She felt the searing heat and velvet wet, and half-curled off the forest floor, keening, all her muscles locking up as she came - fast and hard, leaving her shaken.

"Ara, are you all right?" He asked, an eternity later.

"Yes," she said, and then she laughed. "Oh! That was BEAUTIFUL. You did so well. Come here." She pulled him close and kissed him, half a dozen quick pecks and then a deeper kiss, tasting them both. As they kissed she raised one knee, and got leverage, and popped them over so he was on his back and she was half on top. He oofed with surprise.

"Ara! What - " he said, amazed, but the sentence cut off with a gasp as she curled her hand around his cock.

"What?" She asked innocently, as her loose fist stroked up along his length to the tip...and then, slowly, back down. "Is this all right?"

"Uhhhh yeah," he said.

She suppressed a giggle. "Good," she said. Softly she grazed the pad of her thumb over the exposed head of him, and felt his whole body jerk in response. "So good."

"I won't last like this," he said in between deep breaths.

"Mmm. It's ok. We don't have to go forever the first time," she said. "Here, let me do this. Don't worry about holding back."

And as he struggled to ask a question, to form some sort of coherent thought, she leaned over him, soft breasts warm against his stomach, and slid her wet mouth down over his cock. She pressed her tongue against the underside all the way down, and when she had taken as much of him as she could, she _sucked_ , lightly. Just once. 

He groaned and exploded in her mouth.

She swallowed, the fluid thick and slightly bitter but not _awful_ , not what she had expected. The act had always seemed submissive to her, but like this - him on his back, yielding - she felt flushed with power.

It was her choice, she thought. No force or feelings imposing on her. Just choice.

"Now I really don't want you to leave," Sorza mumbled, and she rested her head on his ribcage as they laughed.


	5. Lies and Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perse hides, and doesn't.

They straggled home once it was light and collapsed into the nearest tent without a word, instantly asleep.

Silvanie woke them after a little while, with dry clothes and warm porridge, which they ate dumbly, still too tired for talking. Dry and full, they curled up together on a pile of woven blankets and slept until early afternoon.

"Any more sleeping now and you will be restless all night, and terrible tomorrow," Silvanie said as she rousted them out of the warm blankets. "There's still work to be done!"

At least the rain had stopped.

She helped Sorza care for the horses, checking their feet, brushing their glossy sides with boar bristle combs. They were soothing in their calm silence, their sweet dark eyes trusting and complacent. As they worked, she and Sorza touched each other; his hand on her shoulder, her hip brushing his. A stolen kiss behind one of the wagons. It was sweet and good. 

Buckets had been put out to catch last night's rain, and Persephone was fetching one for the horses when Ilea came up to her. The matriarch was walking with the aid of a tall staff, and it gave her a martial air, like a veteran soldier still ready for battle.

"You're good with the horses," she said.

"Thank you," Persephone replied, and smiled. "I like them. They're simple."

"Few things in this world are." They walked together a few steps, slow, until Ilea stopped and turned her black-eyed stare on Persephone. "You could stay with us. I think...you're capable of far more than you claimed. _Cooking vegetables_ , pah. You're _different_."

"I'm really not," she protested, feeling a prickle of worry up her back. "I'm very normal."

Ilea _hrmph_ 'd and stepped closer, staring, pinning Persephone with her gaze. 

"I don't think there was an uncle at all," she said. And suddenly relaxed. "As you will. I won't pry yet. You carry your weight and you haven't brought bad luck...and Sorza's not risking his head showing off for the girls anymore. That's good. But I wonder about you. You speak differently sometimes…"

She frowned, shrugged, and turned away, stabbing the earth with her staff as she went.

Persephone exhaled, after what felt like an hour, and scurried off to where the horses were waiting.

***

Barley and carrots for dinner, and dried fruits Sorza brought her, offering them up like treasure or tribute. It was still unpleasantly wet outside, and everyone had worked hard, so there was no music that night around the sputtering, smoky fire; just tired chatter and a few muttered arguments as the weather made tempers short.

They found an empty spot in one of the few tents, raised above the muddy ground with furs cast over a pine-bough floor. Crowded together with twenty other restless souls, there was no real privacy for them, so they made do with a few soft kisses.

"Maybe tomorrow we can sneak away after lunch," Sorza whispered to her. 

"If it's drier," she answered, laughing. "We don't need to muddy any more clothes, drying them out in this wet is impossible."

He murmured something in her ear about going without clothes forever, and she chuckled and kissed him again, and snuggled down into his arms for sleep.

***

Well before dawn she slipped away from camp, avoiding the sentries, and made a call.

"GIRL YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO TEXT ME," Eros boomed, and she jumped a little and turned the volume down. In the dark and still woods his voice seemed louder than thunder. "ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?!"

"Sssh! Not so loud! Yes I'm fine, I'm sorry, everything's fine," she rushed out. 

There was a moment of silence.

"You've been having sex!" Eros crowed.

_Fates._

"I missed you too," she sighed. 

"Oh. Sorry. Yes, of course I miss you. Only partly because your presence would get people _off my back_."

"Eh-heh…" she cringed with guilt. "Ugh, that's fair. Have they been at you still? I SAID in the email that they weren't to bully you - "

"Hah. HERA had to pry your mom off my back. Metaphorically. I think she would have kidnapped me if I weren't so careful." How did he manage to sound aggrieved and smug at the same time? "That was day before yesterday. Nothing since then."

"Just her? That's...that's good," she lied.

His sigh was audible. "Nothing from Big Blue. Cause I know that's what you mean. Look at it this way, he's respecting your wishes, right? Which is what you wanted and wait you're not with Hades? Who were you _fucking_ then? I CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT TEA."

She laid her face in her hands for a second, and then she told him.

There was a pause.

"Hooooooooot," he said.

"It just sort of _happened_ ," she muttered.

"Lie."

"Eros!"

"Look, lie to me if you want, it's none of my business, I only pry because I love, and because it's my job," he said. She could hear him shifting around. "Lie to your mom, your life will be easier. But don't lie to Persephone. You're hiding for time to heal. That won't work if you're hiding from you, too."

She didn't say anything.

"Welp, your boy needs beauty sleep soooo..." he said with an unconvincing yawn.

"I just wanted to," she said. Staring at the sky where a lone star was glimmering through a rent in the clouds. "I like him, and he likes me, and...I wanted something that was _my choice_. Hades...I feel so much with him. It scares me. I'm not in control of it - of me..."

"You can't control love."

"I know." 

"So this guy…"

She sighed. "It isn't love. I know, and I'm pretty sure he knows. I told him it wasn't forever. But I wanted him. For a while."

"Yeah. I get that." She felt his acceptance through the phone like an invisible hug. "Just be careful with him. Mortals are unpredictable."

"I will be. Thanks, Eros."

"No thanks needed, baby girl. I do miss you. Stay in touch!"

The line clicked over to silence.

She sat there for a while, watching the clouds race by, enjoying the velvet breeze that curled around her. 

Then she took a picture of herself, hair loose in the breeze, with the dark forest behind her, and sent it to Hades. And turning her phone off, she rose, slipped back into camp, and into the tent, into Sorza's arms, and finally into sleep.


	6. The War At Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Checking in on everyone.

Weather in the Underworld was fickle. It tended to mimic the mood of its master, and those savvy enough to know this (so, Hecate) could use it as a barometer of sorts, to subtly craft their (her) interactions with the King of the Dead. Thunder was anger. Freezing rain was...also anger. Clouds and normal rain for sadness, dismay, melancholia, stomachache, excessive paperwork, or the grumps.

Snow was snow. Maybe he just liked it?

It got a little _weird_ after Persephone came. Clear nights, warmer than usual. Lots of abrupt switching, light snow to raging thunderstorm in the blink of an eye, dark clouds suddenly blown away by almost springlike breezes.

A week ago, in the middle of the night, Hecate - jolted awake by the phone - had noticed two things at the same time, as she considered sending the caller to voicemail Tartarus for bothering her.

One, there was an email in her inbox, from Persephone, received only 20 minutes prior.

Two, it was raining.

***

And it had been rain since then - a slow, soggy, drippy, bothersome rain. Hecate considered talking him down that night a personal triumph, as he'd been _right out of his mind_ with fifty shades of panicked bullshit: is she all right, did she really send this, what if she's been kidnapped, does she hate me, this is my fault, why am I worrying about her hating me if she's been _fucking Goddess-napped, Hecate, what do I do?!?_ ; he'd been ready to grab helmet, bident, and Cerberus, and set off hunting o'er all the realms to save his beloved WHO SPECIFICALLY SAID TO NOT DO THAT.

If she'd known she had weeks of _cry-rain_ coming she'd have seen him off with applause.

Hecate sighed. She was all for Persephone going on vacation - the poor girl really had been put through the wringer - but please, let her Personal Journey of Discovery be over soon.

At this rate she'd have to buy a new raincoat.

***

Eros slid his phone back into its place on the headboard, and sank down into bed. As he stretched, a slim purple hand slid across his bare torso, and a sleep-soft face smiled up at him.

"Your friend is well?"

"Very well," he murmured with a smirk, and pulled the woman to him for a kiss. She cooed and nestled closer, one leg slung over his hip.

His heart had absolutely _broken_ for Persephone's ordeal. Apollo was an _appalling piece of shit_ and Tartarus was _exactly_ what he deserved. Now, after winning such a victory, HE would've been down for some celebration sex with Big Blue, but Perse was different, and he respected that. 

Mmmostly.

But he did have to admit, the tizzy caused by her abrupt departure had served to draw attention away from his...issues.

Speaking of - 

"We'll have to tell Mother _eventually_ ," he told the woman in his arms, "but...maybe not for a few more days?"

Her dark eyes smiled up at him, and the hand that had been idly stroking his chest slipped lower. "As you wish, my love," she whispered.

"Exactly as I wish...Psyche," he told her, and then there were no more words for a time.

***

Demeter vanished, and no one knew where she had gone, or even that she _was_ gone, until days later when one of her nymphs told one of Hera's nymphs, who told Hera.

***

Hermes and Megaera were talking about Perse at work one day, and the water-cooler chat turned into coffee after clocking out, which turned into movies at his place, which turned into...well.

At least someone in the Underworld was happy.

***

Hades was brooding.

He was very good at it. Running the Afterworld for a millenia gave great brooding practice. He sat in front of the unlit fire in his living room, drinking, not talking or moving, for hours. 

He brooded in the office. Everyone scurried to keep out of his way, to keep from becoming the temporary focus of his ire.

Well, Hecate didn't, but she was a special case. He _supposed_.

The dogs were all out of sorts. Cerberus particularly would go sniffing around the mansion for hours, checking every room, then come and whine at Hades.

"I don't know where she is either," he said to the world's saddest puppy dog eyes.

He brooded at Mandatory Brunch with his brothers. Not even Zeus' poorly veiled jabs about runaway brides could crack his flinty facade.

_She wasn't my bride._

How he wanted to change that.

Her email had been like… a javelin through his heart. Like being stabbed with his own bident. Like the suffering he had endured Before, those long years cut off from the world outside, and his entire body burning, to a cinder, to nothing at all.

She was the only thing that had stopped it.

His therapist had told him how unfair it would be to put such a burden at another being's feet. She could not be held solely responsible for his healing. And he didn't want that, to bow her tiny frame under his tons of baggage.

He wanted to give her space, and time.

He wanted to give her a ring, if she would have it. A ring, and a crown. His crown if she wanted it. His realm and all his powers and his endless life. For her.

But she had gone, and he was left walking around raw as if he'd been skinned, emptied out with the cold wind blowing through his hollowness.

He was a fucking mess.

He moved through life like a hungry ghost for seven days.

On the seventh night, his phone rang the clear, sweet sound of a single bell, and he stubbed two toes and nearly skinned his knees getting to it.

(That was her message tone.)

It was a picture.

He could see the soft curve of her cheek, her shining eyes, a treeline behind her...

And that was all, because she'd forgotten to turn the flash on.

The rain stopped anyway. And in the morning, bright and early, he brought fresh muffins to the office for Hecate.


	7. A Mortal Life

The problem with tents set up to shelter from the rain is that people are not the only things craving shelter. Persephone realized this when the sharp pain that woke her turned out to be the exploratory nibbles of a fat mouse. She did manage to muffle her shriek of surprise, but did not manage to not kick the poor mouse (which was only a mouse and couldn’t be expected to tell toes from food) in a high arc through the air, flailing its mousy legs, to land with a bounce on a pile of wet leaves and disappear in a scurrying flash.

A whole week had gone by.

No one had come to find her.

She had fallen in a creek, learned to ride a horse, watched a mortal woman give birth, had (totally consensual and pretty good) sex, and been tasted by a rodent with a foot thing.

And there was no drama. No recrimination. No one to rule or subdue her.

If Hades weren’t there waiting for her she would _never_ go back.

“We will be at the trademeet in four more days!” Silvanie said when Persephone stepped out of the tent. “The track should be dry enough for the wagons by early afternoon. Just enough time to pack up.” The camp was waking up with much groaning and stretching. Golden sunlight was shining over the tops of the hills around them, with not a cloud in sight, and everyone seemed brighter, more hopeful at this promise of clear weather. 

Her morning chore today was breakfast, and she found she enjoyed supervising the eager child water-carriers, the measuring of grain and dried berries, honey from its precious clay vessel. The firewood was a little damp, but smoke kept the flies away. When Arthis came over for her turn watching the pots - a chore she could do sitting - she even let Persephone hold the baby for a while.

The tiny, infinitely precious mayfly that was a mortal infant. Everything about him was amazing. How could anything be so small? His face, his curly black hair, his perfect little toes. 

His howl of rage was big enough, though. The nameless boy - Ilea had explained to her that naming a child too early could draw the attention of evil spirits - was as loud as Ares. Arthus showed her how to clean and change his breechcloth, stuffing the new one with clean dried moss for absorbance. 

That part was not so precious. 

There were, she reflected afterward while scrubbing her hands clean, many ugly things about mortality, and the mortal realm. Pests, illness, stinks and sweats, the sheer physical labor of life. The wars and crimes they were so eager to join yet so helpless against. The march of time that marked and twisted their bodies before they went out like candle-flames, all their fire vanishing into the other world. She had watched them from afar as a child, and she had worked with their passed-over shades in Hades’ employ, but this was the first time she had lived among them. Touched them, smelled them, learned their names, worked side by side, laughed with them, played with their boisterous wild children. Until the last year of her immortality Persephone had never had to struggle for anything. Demeter provided, and she obeyed Demeter (more or less), and the days were a flickering stream stretching back into the soft, humming darkness of her earliest memories.

She was still pondering these thoughts when Sorza came to her with a handful of fresh blackberries he had found. With these he lured her away from camp, laughing, feeding her berry after sweet berry as they climbed halfway around the side of a hill. She heard running water before she saw it; the hill had been broken open by a spring, widening and rippling its way towards the nearest valley, and lush willows bent and sighed from either side of the little grotto. Tiny blue flowers bloomed here and there across the moss-cushioned ground, perfuming the air.

Sorza looked a question at her, and she smiled her answer.

With exaggerated formality he took her short chiton from her and draped it from a willow-branch where it would stay dry and clean. He looked at her for a minute in the clear light of day, and his eyes were wide and dark. 

She held out her hands to him, and he came to her and kissed her. 

***

Behind them, a part of the willow curtain moved against the wind, for a moment; but neither one noticed.

***

For a little while they just kissed, deep and greedy, until passion and lack of air made them break away and lean against each other, dizzy and laughing. Persephone stretched up to kiss the side of his throat, where his pulse leapt under her mouth, and began untying and pulling away his clothes. 

“You taste like the blackberries,” he told her.

“Well… we _were_ eating them,” she said with a quirked eyebrow, and laughed again softly. “Stand there for a moment.” She stepped back and beheld him, his lean athletic form against the backdrop of willow leaves, skin paler where clothes kept the sun from him, the curved length of his cock proudly erect against his flat belly. He was a statue, living art, so masterfully wrought and real in every detail, down to the flat scar on his left hip, the freckles across his arms.

He stepped forward, deliberately; blushing but grinning through it. He touched her shoulders and slid his fingers down to the slope of her breasts, watching the tracks of his hands intently. He breathed out an oath as her dark nipples crinkled and hardened to his touch.

Persephone wrapped her arms around his head and gasped her pleasure while he feasted on her sweet flesh, suckling and nipping and kissing. He supported her when she grew unsteady, and then sliding to his knees pulled them both down gently onto the soft damp moss. On his back beneath her. She lay pressed full-length against his body, feeling his deep hard breaths lifting her, the strong beat of his heart under her ear. His fingers played across her back, touching as much of her as he possibly could.

“I want you,” he told her frankly, “but I could get you with child. I don’t know if you…”

She looked up at him with a crooked smile. “It’s ok,” she said. “After - the other day - I found a special herb, and ate it. But thank you for asking.” She slid herself down slowly until her knees touched the ground astride his hips, and pushed up onto them; he made a thick sound between his teeth, and took one of her hands in his.

She rose up, squeezing his hand tightly, and sank down onto his cock with a grateful sigh. They watched each other as it happened - eyes widening at the stretch, the tightness, the slow hot slide of his flesh into hers. 

“Yes,” she told him, “Yes.”

They rocked together, slow and then fast, and the sounds they made grew louder and less controlled. Dragonflies buzzed the air around her shoulders. Sweat beaded on her neck. Groaning, Sorza lay his head back and began to thrust up into her, pulling her down into each one by her hips, and she cried out his name once and again as she began to come. Reaching down, she pushed her fingers through the damp curls where their bodies met and ground them against her clit, making the waves of pleasure crash harder inside her, and seeing this he cursed through gritted teeth and let himself spill into her clasping, welcoming heat.

They collapsed, all tangled limbs, sucking down draughts of sweet air.

“We should...go back,” he said a timeless time later. His voice was thick and drowsy. “They are packing up. We will be missed.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, and did not move from his arms.

Eventually, there in the shade by the rippling spring, they fell asleep.

***

A strange sound woke her.

Sorza snored lightly beneath her. It hadn’t been a very loud noise. Fuzzy-minded, she tried to focus her senses. Wind in the trees? An animal?

The sound happened again. It had come from the trail behind them, the way they’d come into this place, and its source was hidden by trees and the curve of the hill, but it was, this time, recognizable.

It was a moan.

“ _Sorza_ ,” she hissed, and poked his ribs. He came blinking back to consciousness, and almost spoke, but the look on her face stopped him. The next sound came - a slithering leaf-rattling sound - and he came completely awake and sat up, pushing her behind him. He took a rock in one hand and lifted up on one knee.

“Shhh,” he said to her, but there was another moan, a torn and wordless plea.

They stood, and moved toward the sound. “Be ready to run,” he told Persephone. “I won’t let anything hurt you.”

She felt strange. Not just surprised or frightened or curious. She felt like she was made of glass and something had just dropped her. Light, and empty, and falling.

A dragonfly, oblivious, lighted on her arm, and flew away again.

Sorza had half rounded the curve of hill behind them, moving into the trees, and stopped. She saw the muscles of his bare back jerk with surprise, the rock drop from his hand.

She came up to him, beside him, and saw that it was Silvanie. 

It had been Silvanie that morning.

Slumped against the bole of a tree, she looked up at them, but could not possibly have seen. A milky film covered her eyes and streaked downward like mucousy tears. The skin of her face was mottled and swollen, and her mouth hung open, dragging in harsh breaths.

Her hair was falling out.

Persephone made a noise, and Silvanie’s head jerked in their direction; and she moaned again.

“Gods help me,” she whined brokenly. “Gods help us.”

***


	8. The Scourge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mystery is solved, to no-one's satisfaction.

Persephone stood naked in the warm, diffuse forest light, and felt her whole body prickle up with goosebumps. Horror froze her, cleaved her tongue to the roof of her mouth.

"Silvanie?" Sorza's voice was thin and shaken, the voice of a slapped child. "Silvanie, what - "

He stumbled towards her but she cringed back, warding him off with a trembling hand. "No! Don't touch me! Don't touch me!"

"What happened?!" He crouched down, close but not touching. " _What is this?"_

" _Plague,_ " the woman cried, her words gurgling thickly through a ravaged throat. "Punishment...don't touch me, Sorza...don't die."

She slumped back against the tree, wheezing. Her clothes were filthy with dirt and twigs; looking up, Persephone could make out the trail of disturbed underbrush where Silvanie had dragged herself over the forest floor to them.

"Ara." Sorza turned his pale and tear-streaked face to her. "Get our...our things from the tree. My cloak."

When she returned, chiton hastily pulled around herself, he took his woolen cloak and wrapped it around Silvanie's shaking body. She cried protest, but he ignored it, lifting her up into his arms and carrying her to the waterside. He laid her down so gently, and gave her water with his own hands, and though his face was creased with fear, Persephone knew none of it was for himself.

"We were fine," Silvanie whispered. The cool drink had soothed her throat, but she was still so weak, so badly ravaged by whatever sickness this was. She was bloated, tissues bruise-colored and swollen, and when touched this flesh indented and tore like an overripe plum, leaking blood and lymph.

She was wracked with a sudden cough, shaken roughly by the explosions of breath, and when it was done she weakly spat out a mouthful of pink tinged phlegm, and a single tooth.

"We were fine," she gasped. "I was washing out the pots...and we were packing, when I started to cough. It was not bad at first but...it would not stop...would not stop…" Her eyes rolled blindly. "I heard more...and more. I fell and heard others fall. Sorza, it was so fast."

"Don't - don't try to talk," he said. "Rest."

"Ilea!" she gasped, and pulled at his sleeve. "She might know...she was a healer. You have to go to them. Sorza, go back to them. Please. The _children_.”

A shiver began in Silvanie, a trembling stiffness that ran from arms and legs through her whole body. Sightless eyes locked on the sky, the woman shook and cried out wordlessly, and then slumped unconscious in his arms. Still breathing...barely.

"I'll stay with her," Persephone said. "Go back to camp. We'll be all right."

“Ara.” He looked up at her, despair writ large across his face. “My...my friend. Run away.”

“No - “

“ _Ara_.” Laying Silvanie’s limp form on the soft ground, he stood, and pulled his clothes on without looking at her. He rubbed a hand across his face. “Take Zoras. You remember where I tethered him. That is far enough from the camp to be safe. If you follow the trail through the hills - “

“Sorza, I said no,” she explained. “You - you’re my - “

“RUN!” He roared at her, and she saw that he was crying again. “Please! Live! You are precious. You should live forever. Go far away. Find a man, have children. Remember us! Don't die with us.”

She cried… but she did not run.

After a moment he sighed harshly, and left them, headed towards camp.

***

One he had vanished among the trees, she rushed to Silvanie, falling to her knees beside the stricken woman. She laid a gentle palm across the feverish brow, frowning in concentration, and loosed, carefully, a trickle of power from within her true heart. A cool, silvery glow limned her hand, slowly expanding over Silvanie’s form, shivering like moonlight on water with the mortal’s shallow and unsteady breathing.

Persephone felt herself sinking down and in, smoothly breaking the bond of surface tension, the flow of energy that gave all matter its enduring shape; her floating consciousness experiencing the pulses and rhythms, the pump and flow of this mortal body. Its pulse a fast bass flutter. The current of the blood, thickened and slowed like an ice-choked river where it should have been light and steady. She felt the _wrongness_ of it, _tasted_ it. 

Reached out and _touched_ it.

Humming, she pushed the glow of her energy into that ebbing stream - pushed harder - and felt it ripple through the body, burning away corruption, cleansing and purifying. The cadence of life stuttered and then heaved back into place, power jolting down the fine lace paths inside the flesh, brightening, dancing. A rising flood of joyous life swept Persephone back into herself, and she opened her eyes and saw that Silvanie’s color was returning, her breath steadied, the sweat cooled from her. No tremor shook her.

Healed, she slept.

Persephone sat back on her heels and wiped her own brow. She had never used her powers on a mortal before, and hadn’t been sure it would work. But it did. It worked. 

She could save her friends.

She pushed up to her feet and turned to run towards camp, and something pushed her - slammed into her from behind with the force of a cyclone, lifting her feet from the ground and tossing her against a willow trunk with a crushing thud. She collapsed at its root, stunned, all the wind pushed out of her, and saw a rippling splash as something _unseen_ landed in the spring pool like a stone.

The water moved as something walked through it towards her.

As it came closer, climbing from the pool, the air shimmered and bent, and a form resolved itself. It darkened the little grotto, changing the air, coating everything with a tenebrous violet aura.

" _Sister,_ " Artemis said, and smiled.


	9. Virtue

In that few seconds of unreality, as Artemis’ divine nature soaked out into the mortal realm, Persephone saw Silvanie tilt her head, beginning to awaken.

“Silvanie!” She cried. “Don’t open your eyes! Hide your face!”

The air around them ripped thunderously as Artemis burst into motion, crossing the space in an eyeblink. She thrust her hand into Persephone’s hair and _lifted_ her from the ground, pressing her back against the willow tree with a rough push below her ribcage, forcing breath out and words away. “Hide your face, mortal,” she said sweetly, holding Persephone’s gaze. “You are not fit to look upon me.”

“ _Why_ \- “ Persephone grunted, and Artemis pushed again. She did not need the air, but this mortal form did, and it writhed and strained for breath. 

She couldn’t understand why this was happening. 

The trial - the _nakedness_ of the truth she had been forced to show everyone. Her mother...Zeus and Hera...all her friends… Hades. And Artemis. Apollo’s sister had been hard to convince, but in the end… when Persephone had taken her hand, and _shown_ her, as she had shown Eros, and the goddess had pulled away and vomited on the floor of the court; then, _finally_ , she had believed. Hers had been one of the votes casting her brother into the cold darkness of Tartarus.

She had expected it to lead to the death of their friendship. Trauma is trauma. She had meant to give Artemis all the space and time she needed.

“Why? Why? You are… _truly_ an idiot,” her assailant mocked. She leaned back, and dazed Persephone did not understand until the punch exploded against her jaw. Her head ricocheted against the tree trunk, the second impact a massive, stunning blow, and Artemis let her fall to the ground.

“I was so ashamed,” she said, looking down at Persephone. “Me the failure. Me the idiot. You were so sad and so broken. What an _atrocity_ Apollo wrought on your flesh, what a _defilement_ of your innocent purity.” 

Gasping, Persephone began to pull herself away, dragging over the mossy earth as Silvanie must have crawled through the forest. She heard Artemis moving behind her, then felt the huntress’ boot on her back, forcing her down to the earth. 

“ _PURITY,_ ” she seethed.

She dug her toe under Persephone’s shoulder and flipped her over, resting that booted foot lightly on her throat.

“Stay down,” Artemis said. “This one you can watch.”

She reached back and with a crackling of light, pulled an object into existence from the aether. A powerful bow, recurved and coaly black, a graceful wooden arabesque of death. The arrows she conjured next were also black, fletched with big crow feathers, shimmering with an oil-slick rainbow sheen. “I don’t get to use these a lot,” she said conversationally, and nocked one of the arrows, pulling it far, far back, the muscles popping into relief along her arms and shoulders. Perse gurgled beneath her.

She took careful aim at the prone, shivering Silvanie.

“Healing mortals. What a waste,” Artemis sighed.

She looked like a dark star, a true Huntress of moonless nights, with a streak of white paint across her eyes. Her body fell very, very still.

The vine that whipped around her knees, pulling taut, shifted her just enough to send the black arrow shooting an inch over Silvanie’s back and thudding into a willow behind her, which began, promptly, to wither.

Artemis cursed and tried to turn, but those vines were swelling thick and muscular, and they pulled her away from Persephone in a rush. 

Red light leaked into the violet miasma around them, the colors swirling against each other, clashing. 

Pulled to her knees, Artemis looked up at Persephone, and laughed. Her eyes - she felt them glowing, felt her mortal guise cracking. She let it go. Power flowed from her, lifting her into the air a foot, two feet. Vibrant with life, her hair grew long and thick, until it touched the ground beneath her and curled out across it, searching. 

“ _It was the truth_.” Her voice reverberated with divine timbre, shaking the willow leaves.

“ _I KNOW IT WAS THE TRUTH!”_ Artemis shrieked. Her face, her eyes filled with fury. With madness. “ _YOU SAID YOU HATED IT! YOU LET US SEND HIM TO TARTARUS!_ Yet here you are...innocent princess... _rutting in the dirt like a DOG!"_

She flexed against the vines, sweat smearing her jagged warpaint, and growled. Power burst from her and shredded the bonds away, plant matter exploding across the grotto.

“I came to watch over you,” she told Persephone. Thorns had split her skin from the binding, and the golden blood dripped freely down her arms, unheeded. “I knew it was my fault. I wasn’t even going to bother you. Just...watch. Keep you safe. Make up for it.”

“Artemis, stop this,” Persephone said. Pleaded. “It was my choice. The humans didn’t do anything to you. Leave them alone!”

“Nah,” Artemis said. Standing, she wiped one hand down her blood-slick arm and flicked droplets into the spring. “I can beat you like a drum every day of the week and twice on Sundays and you’ll be fine. And I mean, eventually somebody would stop me. 

But nobody’s gonna care if I kill your pets.”

She pulled another arrow, carelessly smearing ichor over it, and lifted her bow again. “Now, don’t try to - “

Persephone struck like a diving hawk, her face lit with rage, and they collapsed to the ground together. Artemis laughed crazily, punching and kicking as they rolled. She headbutted Persephone, managed to crawl away half a foot, and _oof_ ed out a breath when a fat woody stem sprang from the earth beneath her, punching up against her gut.

They came back together in martial embrace, and Persephone _bit_ her, sinking sharp white teeth into the side of her face. Artemis yowled and spat.

Silvanie, Persephone saw, had judged the situation clearly and crawled away into the underbrush.

Good.

She thrust Artemis off of her, sending a wiry vine of honeysuckle to wind itself around the huntress’ throat. It hauled her to the earth like a garotte and held her there, kicking and choking.

“She’s gone!” she yelled at Artemis, and took the black bow in her hands. “It’s over!”

Creepers of saw greenbriar and bougainvillea crawled along her arms, seeking, winding. They bound themselves around the bow and grew fat with intention. Thorns dug into the finish hungrily.

There was a grinding, rending, crunching snap.

Artemis fell still against the earth, and watched the halves of her bow fall down.

***

“ _Leave now,_ ” Persephone said, and released the bonds.

Artemis sat up slowly, rubbing her throat with one hand. “That was a good bow,” she said mildly. “Oh, fine. I’m going. I’ll be sure to tell your _mother_ how your _vacation_ has been.”

“I wish you would let me explain,” Persephone said.

Artemis chuckled, and slowly rose into the air. “Think you’d have time?” She winked. “Boy’s been gone a while now.”

And she vanished.


	10. Burning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The life so short, the craft so long to learn." -- Hippocrates

Dread squeezed her heart.

_Sorza._

She exploded into the sky, a vertical streak of flaring light, rising above the trees. Curving downwards she rocketed across the landscape, following the faintly seen tracks of clear soil marking the path back to camp. She saw thin, curling smoke trails against the horizon, and the clearing, and the roofs of tents; and, as she angled herself towards a landing, saw black bundles lying on the earth around them.

She knew that those were people.

The ground rose up and she landed hard, knocked to her knees by the impact; she bounded up again immediately and began calling his name. Enhanced by divine power, her voice echoed among the tents and the nearby trees.

When it faded, she could hear birdsong, and the humming of insects; the soft sounds of horses nearby; and nothing else.

She ran towards the main tent, blindly avoiding the crumpled forms of mortals in her path. Inside she was wracked with anguish; she wanted to stop at every last one and hold them, heal them one by one with her power - win them all back from Death - but the call of her heart was too strong. She passed them by.

Near the edge of camp she saw a lock of red hair caught on a tuft of grass.

She looked at it, and then looked up; and there at the edge of a partly disassembled tent was Sorza, slumped over another person.

Persephone held very, very still, afraid to know, until she saw the subtle movement of his body that showed his breathing. 

He was alive.

She was at his side before she knew it, touching him gently, rolling him away from the other person - a smaller figure that she realized was the boy she had danced with - Sorza's brother. They were both so pale. 

“Sorza,” she said hoarsely, and his head turned towards her. Blindly. A thick film of white mucous covered his eyes, and the delicate lids around them were swollen and bruised.

He tried to speak, but could not.

"It's ok. It's ok. I've got you," she whispered. She lay one hand over his eyes and the other over his heart, took a deep breath, and began.

Rosy light filled the camp around them. A deep thrumming sound. The scent of springtime, fresh and floral, new grass, rich loam, clean water.

She sank deep within him, reaching. Unfolding her divine essence. The corruption simmered in him and she chased it, burning as she went.

Cleansed, his ebbing energies began to dance again. She felt his breath grow strong and steady.

With her overwhelming relief came a strange tickle at the perimeter of her enhanced, attuned senses. Places of darkness, flickering like laughter, drawing at her.

She pushed her power outward in pursuit.

She found those pools of illness, one after another, and she lashed out at them and felt the darkness melting away beneath her touch. Another. And another. And another.

She pushed and pushed, pouring out the heart of herself. Exhaustion began to creep in, but she would not stop. Evil was here and must be destroyed.

Her light was dimming; she struggled, dragging at herself, scraping for every last flicker of strength. Everything she had.

Everything.

***

She woke to the sound of weeping.

Honeyed twilight spilled over the camp. She was cradled in a bower of blankets, warm and soft; Sorza and Silvanie were before her.

Alive.

Kneeling.

Ranks of others knelt behind them, a rough half-circle of people all facing her, backlit by the sunset which cast their faces into shadow. She lifted her head to see them.

They cried out as one and cast themselves on their faces before her.

All of them, perhaps forty people, led by Sorza and Silvanie; they prostrated themselves to her, faces against the earth, and she heard them speaking her praise. Healer. Savior.

Goddess.

As she sat up - slowly, for there was still no strength in her - she saw behind them a pile of brush and branches, dry wood stacked to the height of a man, and among the wood...laid so carefully there were…

Seated in honor among the survivors of the clans that had taken her in, Persephone beheld the pyre they had built for their lost, and burst into tears.

"Silvanie," she choked. "Please. Come to me."

The woman came to her without hesitation, and took Persephone in her arms as if she had been any mortal child, holding her tight. Persephone buried her face in the women's shoulder, hiding from the truth, the finality of death. They cried together.

"I brought this on you," the goddess said through her grief. "It's my fault. All my fault."

Silvanie stroked her hair comfortingly. "You saved us," she said. "So many of us. I saw you healing when I got back to camp on Sorza's horse. Forgive me for it, I looked upon your miracle...Goddess, you do not need our forgiveness. I heard you speaking with the Other. She brought this plague onto us."

She lifted Persephone's chin, gently, letting her look out again over the camp.

"Death comes to us in so many ways," she said. "Your healing is more than we ever could have hoped for. We have a second chance."

Persephone wiped her eyes.

"Please," she said. "Rise. You needn't do this."

The people slowly sat up, hesitating, their faces turned away still.

"You shine too bright," Silvanie whispered.

"Oh...yes, of course."

Concentrating, Persephone pulled her mortal disguise around her like a cloak. Murmurs of surprise came from all around. 

Sorza was still bowed to the earth before her. She saw shivers moving through his body.

She stood, unfolding herself from the blankets, and went to him. Kneeling next to him. She rested one hand gently on his head and heard him drag in a startled breath.

"Look at me," she told him.

"I dare not," he said.

Her heart ached with shame for what she had done to them. To him.

"Please," she said, "I need you."

He hesitated a moment more, and then sat up abruptly before his courage could give out, and looked at her. She saw confusion cross his face.

"You look...like Ara again," he whispered; his hand moved, as if reaching out, then fell back to his side. "You were so _bright_."

"Come with me," she asked again, and rose. He came to his feet.

Together they stepped carefully through the crowd. The people reached out as she passed, and touched her feet and the hem of her peplos. Some were weeping still.

They stopped in front of the pyre.

"How many?" Persephone asked, voice trembling. She felt Silvanie coming up behind them. "Ilea?"

"Ilea Wayfinder is gone," Sorya said. "Twenty others left with her. We have prepared their bodies."

"The baby?" She asked, full of hopelessness.

Silence was her answer.

It was too much. She felt herself crumbling inside, nothing but debris in an empty shell. She remembered these people. Ilea's dark eye and scathing laugh. The strong men with their armbands and their fleet horses, the girls who had braided her hair. The baby warm and heavy in her arms, waving its tiny fists at the world.

She had killed them all.

The survivors came, all of them, silently circling the pyre. The sun had gone down and stars were coming out above them, cold and bright.

"Goddess," Silvanie said; and without any other word, held out a flaming torch to her.

Pain beyond measure.

She took the brand and touched it to the dry wood, and watched the flame moving, spreading, devouring.


	11. Windblown Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leavetaking.

Only ashes remained when the sun rose.

The survivors got to work at daybreak, and they worked for the next three days as the summer sun beat hot on their shoulders; bringing stones to the site, lifting and arranging them. Slowly an oval of stone grew to circle the extinguished pyre, and then crept upward row by row to conceal it. Even the children helped, bringing water or food to the workers, caring for the horses, watching the children who were too young still to participate.

The surviving ones, anyway.

At first the clans had not wanted Persephone to help with this dirty, physically difficult undertaking, but she would not move; and as mortals are loath to refuse a goddess, they moved aside to give her a place, shy as frightened horses in her presence. She did her best. The heat and the labor both weighed on her. Her hands grew blistered and sore. 

She never complained, not once. This was penance. She had turned her phone off the first night, after the fire; she could not think of anything to say, to anyone.

They worked in shifts and barely slept. 

On the third day, a few hours after dawn, they were done. The capstone set into its place. They had built their mound high and well, and said that the lost would surely rest now, undisturbed. They stood back and looked at their work, remembering.

Persephone stepped forward.

She didn't raise her hands, or say anything; it seemed needless and, more than that, disrespectful. The dead did not need a show. They didn't need anything from this world anymore.

She didn't even close her eyes. Just took a breath and lowered her head.

And the earth moved. 

There was a shiver at the base of the mound; then a slow rising. Green shoots broke through and stretched upwards. Curling and twining, they clung to the stones, weaving together in a living net. Glossy green leaves spread like moths' wings, unfurled and stiffening in the sun. Fat buds swelled and burst into crimson flowers.

Within moments, the mound - that shield of and memorial to their dead - became a lush garden.

They murmured in awe, but Persephone turned and walked away without a word; and the crowding mortals moved aside and let her go.

***

There was a high place some distance from the camp, with no trees to impede the view. Persephone stopped there. From this rise she could see the faint patch of grassland they had left behind days ago, the place where so many people's fates had been sealed by her presence. 

Oh, her heart. It was so empty.

She sat there in the grass, under the sun's eye, trying to think, but unable. She could see her memories; lying with Sorza on the moss, talking to Ilea, racing the children to the stream and back. It had reminded her so strongly of her own childhood. When Mother was the source of all goodness, and nothing was complicated, and she fell asleep at night surrounded with loving warmth. No shame. No fear. No regret.

She knew it would never be that way again.

The sun made its journey across the sky, telling her nothing, and as it dipped below the treeline, she heard hoofbeats approaching from camp.

Sorza left his horse a few yards away, with a murmured word of reassurance, and came to sit with her. 

Silently they watched the sun disappear.

"Silvanie told me if I didn't find you she would never feed me again."

"You shouldn't have," she sighed. "I'm just a danger to you."

"Nothing can hurt me now. I have lain in the arms of a goddess," he told her very seriously.

She rolled over to look at him, until he couldn't hold his face steady anymore and laughed, his head tilted back with it, free and easy. 

"Sorza," she said, and he smiled at her.

"Why did you come to us? Why live among us? Was it a test?" He squinted up at the sky, thoughtfully, where the first stars had already come out. "Why did you heal us? Do we have some great destiny?"

"I don't know your destiny. I don't know much about destiny at all," she admitted. "I wanted a change in my life, for a while, and I was out wandering with no goal other than to see the world. I met you accidentally, and that's the truth."

"Do you wish you had not?"

How to answer that?

"I wish no one had died," she said. "I wish it could have been what I wanted. An escape for a while. A chance to choose where I wanted to go, what to do...who to spend time with. But I carry it all with me. There's no escape."

Her voice had grown thick with unwashed tears. They trembled on her lashes, splitting the starlight to a silver net in her view. 

Greatly daring, he took her hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb across her palm.

"Silvanie is an outcast," he told her. "She lived in a city once, where there were big stone houses and no one roamed as we do. She told me, a long time ago. She fell in love with a man of the clans and left her stone house to be with him. Later she learned that people from the sea had come, soon after her leaving, and all the people of that great city were taken, or killed.

Then, later, there was a clan battle...and hers lost. Her man died, all the men died and all the horses and wagons were taken, and only she and two other women escaped. They walked through the grass nine days before Ilea found them and took them in. She has lived through many things, borne children, lost them… made mistakes… she said she carries everything within her, good and bad, or she would not be Silvanie."

"I don't know who I am," she said, after this. "Who I'm going to be or even who I _want_ to be."

He squeezed her hand.

"You are the goddess who loves us. Who saved us - Silvanie and my brother and so many others. Who loved me...for a little while," he told her with a sad little smile, and then she _was_ crying, helplessly crying, and he wiped her tears away with his own hands and then kissed her, there in the grass, in the dark.

***

He helped her onto his horse and set it walking, a slow swaying pace back towards the camp.

"I have to go soon," she said. He was guiding the horse with one hand and had wrapped the other arm around her waist, holding her warm and steady against him. "I can't risk bringing more danger onto you."

"I know. Though we would brave any threat for you." His breath was warm against the side of her face. "You will always have a place with us, but we all know. Yours is a different life."

"I'll never forget," she said quietly.

Outside the ring of wagons, outside the fire light, Sorza stopped his horse for a moment. 

"Will you tell me your name?" He asked. "So I can properly say my evening devotions."

The smile was in his voice again, and she felt her empty heart beat again, just a little.

What _were_ mortals? How could they be what they were?

"I am Persephone, the goddess of Spring," she said. Softly, like a prayer, or a whisper during the act of love. "But let me stay Ara to you, always."

He smiled down at her, his eyes hidden in night shadow.

Then they kissed again, deep and sweet and slow, for the last time.

***

The next morning, with all the clans gathered, Persephone took her leave. She embraced Silvanie and felt the women's solidness, her _realness_.

"Goodbye," she said to them all.

Then she turned and walked away, past the wagons, past the burial mound with its fragrant blossoms nodding in the breeze. She turned into the forest, away from any track or path, the plants swaying lightly to make room. 

She caught a glimpse of Sorza, his red hair blazing in the sunlight.

And then they were gone.


	12. Cold Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation.

Persephone walked through the deep forest.

She had no direction in mind. Her feet followed the lines of ridge and valley, an aimless, numb wandering. The underbrush stretched and twisted to give her passage. She could feel them all; their slow green life, roots drawing moisture and nutrients from the soil and pushing them, up and out, into the green leaves spreading wide for the sun. The way they fought each other, slowly grappling and choking, vying for space and light. 

She felt no hunger or thirst.

Once night fell, she rose up toward the tree canopy, floating more than flying. She saw a huge old owl on his branch, his head tilting to follow her rise, and felt the breeze of his passing when he slipped soundlessly into the air and vanished past her. A squealing cry from the dark heralded his successful hunt. 

Death was all around her.

How had she been so blind to it? 

Hades had been a distant thought before she left her mother's house, a vague shadow of mortal fear. Demeter made her childhood a happy one, and frowned at any hint of darkness brought into that bubble. What she _had_ heard were stories the nymphs told at night to frighten each other into squeals and shivers.

When she met him, finally, he was drunk. She had never seen a drunken man before. No one had told her that men could be beautiful. He was colored like the midsummer sky just before twilight, and she had been just brash enough to slip into the room, to move close and listen to his breathing, before footsteps in the hall outside had chased her back out the window.

What a shock it had been, not so much later, waking up in his house.

And he had been nothing like that overwrought gossip at all. Hades frightening? Why, he was full of love! How close to the surface it shone when he let it! 

How sad that only a precious few felt it. The dogs...his niece. He had a gentle heart, and the thought of what pressures had caused him to shield it so well - his isolation as a child, the war, the stress and loneliness of building the Underworld by himself - made her shiver.

Her love for him scared the hell out of her.

It was so _strong_ and so alien, the way her heart and body responded to him. For a long time she had been able to deny it, call it a crush, a temporary thing that would surely heal with time. Her heart wouldn't be a foolish girl's heart forever. The distance between them was insurmountable. 

But one day, when the trial was over, she had realized that nothing stood between them anymore. She didn't belong to the Maidens or to her mother. Something final had happened between him and his P.A., she wasn't sure what or why, only that whatever Hades had with the river nymph, it was over.

They were free. 

The thought almost knocked her to the ground. It made things in her blaze and ache. 

It was too much.

So she had run away - screw 'journey of self exploration', it had been sheer panicked flight and nothing else. Running to something she'd never been before.

Alone.

The clans hadn't changed that, because with them she was a blank slate. They had no attachments, no preconceptions; no history to weigh heavy on her. They asked nothing but the labor of her hands in fair exchange for her food and a place to sleep.

Sorza had asked nothing of her. There was no pull of her soul when they were together, no overwhelming weight of destiny or obsession or *whatever* lay between her and Hades; only perfectly normal attraction, the sort any young woman might feel with a vibrant, laughing young man. No vows, no ties, no expectations.

And she thought that was freedom, until they started to die.

***

She flew through the cooling night air, high above the trees, not really caring about her direction. Eventually the land beneath her rose, and rose, and rose; rolling hills sharpening and stacking up on each other into mountains. The air was thinner here, crisp and cold.

A darkness on the side of the mountain resolved itself into the opening of a cave as she drew close, and as she was beginning to tire and was still full of thoughts, she landed inside it.

Too high for bats; it was dry and clean inside, if cold. She followed the twisting crevice in far enough that the winds wouldn't reach her.

And there she stayed, thinking.

“You can come out now,” she said, after a while.

There was a soft sound in the dark. An indrawn breath. Then the rasping click of a lighter. The tiny flame threw dancing shadows all around them.

“How did you find me?” She asked.

“Thanatos,” Hades said after a moment. 

She huffed out an annoyed breath. “You know… I really thought I’d thought of everything. Everyone.”

“Thanatos is easy to forget.” He lit a lamp that he had brought, setting it on a nearby shelf of stone; then, without coming closer, he offered her the coat he had brought. Eventually she took it. The cave was very cold.

“I’ll leave again if you wish. I… I had to know that you were all right.”

“I’m not,” she sighed.

He sat down, still a few feet away, making it very obvious he was not trying to crowd her. Though, she thought, he had still gone against her _express_ request. 

She would probably be mad about that later. Right now she was just too tired. Of everything.

“How long have you been with me?” she asked instead. 

“He came straight to me to complain about your healing.” Hades’ voice was displeased. “Because he’s an idiot. But he mentioned you and Artemis… fighting. I arrived right before she left.”

He’d seen almost everything, then. She pulled the coat more tightly around herself. The healing… the crying… Sorza.

“I didn’t know I could heal like that,” she said. “Mortals, anyway. I don’t know if it was an overstep. I didn’t care, at the time. I don’t really care now.”

“It wasn’t, anyway. It was amazing. Few among us have that breadth of power.” He looked closely at her, with an expression she couldn’t read. “It took a lot from you… honestly, I was about to intervene when you lost consciousness. But I felt the life still in you. And the mortals there seemed to be taking good care of you.”

“The ones that survived,” she said bitterly, looking away.

“Yes,” he said. Simply. Accepting.

“I thought it would be easier,” she told him, her words coming faster now. “Being alone, or being a stranger with them. I have so many _ties_ back home. Everyone has an expectation, or an opinion. I couldn’t just… go back to work. Back to school. Everyone _knew_. It was… it was like being pressed flat. Like I said to Mama.

Even my own feelings. Were too much.” She looked back at him, afraid but intent. 

Sitting there in the shifting lamplight, helm resting beside him, Hades looked like some ancient idol, massive and inscrutable. It was awful, in the old sense of the word: to fill with awe. And part of her was awed. But then he leaned towards her, just a little, and she saw the sorrow in his eyes. Sorrow for her.

“I had sex with that boy,” she blurted out. “That’s why Artemis gave them the plague. She was mad - crazy mad - because I guess I was supposed to stay this poor broken thing forever? I can’t do that! I can’t just _stop_. I’m so afraid.”

“Are you afraid of me?”

She laughed, a quiet, bitter sound. “Of you? No,” she said. “Of myself when I’m with you? Of getting...lost in you? I love you so much. I feel like I would _dissolve_ in you. And there’d be nothing left of me.”

Then there was silence. I surprised him, she thought. 

“And those people. They were so kind to me, and they died, because I wanted to get _laid_. Maybe I’m cursed. I wanted to decide for myself but all my decisions end up the same way. Should I give up?” Crying a little now, she turned to Hades. “Maybe dissolving would be better than...whatever this is.”

“Kore…” he said. And stopped for a moment. She felt him looking for words, arranging them in his head.

“I don’t know...about love,” he said. “If it destroys the way you fear. I love you - “ his voice broke. “- but to me that feels like freedom. Like letting go of a weight that I’ve been carrying for… a very long time.”

She sniffled and wiped her face, listening.

“I don’t want to change you. To make you less than what you are. I want us to grow, together. But I can’t - I don’t know what it would be like. I don’t think anyone does. And I can’t fault you...for being afraid.

But I think there is one thing I can help you with.”

He stood, and held out his hand.

“Will you come with me? There is someone I would like you to meet.”

***

They were flying through the mountains. The sun was coming up, and Persephone could see life below them, eagles riding the wind, goats so far away they were reduced to tiny specks traversing the cliffs. 

Up further into the cold they went, into the sunrise, until a great jagged peak rose before them. It was a hooked and crooked edifice, stabbing into the sky, but as they flew closer, Persephone could make out a single flat plane cut from the stone, nearly horizontal.

Someone was lying there. A great figure, taller than Hades, taller than anyone she had ever seen. Its skin was the color of stone, and she realized, as they were landing, that it was looking at them.

“Company!” The figure boomed in a great bass voice, shaking a puff of snow loose from the cliff above it. “I haven’t had company in years!”

“Hello, Prometheus,” Hades said.


	13. Forethought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A history lesson.

"Little Aidoneus, how good to see you!"

Up close, Persephone saw the Titan was not merely lying there. Finely wrought chains bound his wrists and ankles to the rock; they looked delicate, but must have been immensely strong, to hold such a being.

Of all the experiences in her short life so far, this was surely the strangest.

"Tell me, boy, how do things fare below? I can hear, you know, but there's so much chatter and babble these days, it's hard to pick out anything important. Gives me a headache! Last thing I need right now! Zeus still king, then? Thought it should've been Hera, I did, but oh well. And who's this you've brought?" The Titan tilted his head to peer disconcertingly at Persephone. "Pretty little thing. Did you go and get yourself a Queen while I've been on holiday, then?"

Hades cleared his throat. "Yes - Zeus is still King of us. This is Persephone, Goddess of Spring, my - my close friend." 

She could feel him not looking at her.

"I see. I see. Say no more!" Prometheus chuckled, a sound like boulders grinding together. "Well then, what can this old Titan do for the both of you?"

"How much time do we have?" Hades asked, somberly.

"Oh, hours. Hours yet." Prometheus said, and sighed. "The anticipation is all part of it, you know, so I have the whole day to watch and wait, and know the long night is ahead. Damned clever when you think about it!"

"I'm sorry," Hades said. "I didn't agree with this."

"Oh, I know. Which is funny when you think about it! Judge of the soul and all, but Zeus metes out my punishment himself. Still sore about that trick I played on him with the sacrifices. That's what started it all, of course; he was so greedy, and I thought I'd take him down a peg! And I'm not sorry, not one bit, and you can tell him so if you like." The titan grinned, a fearsome sight. "But that's enough rambling from me. For now anyway! Say on, Aidoneus!"

He fell silent and waited expectantly.

"Well," Hades said. "Persephone is working with me, now. In the Underworld, judging shades. But...she has an empathy for mortals that I lack, and I'm not sure...how to counsel her about it. Given her role. But you gave up so much for them." He nodded at the chains. "I thought it would be...helpful, for you both to meet."

"Ahhh." The Titan shifted a bit in his chains to face them. "Hello, goddess of Spring! Working in the Underworld, hey? Seems like an odd choice but it takes all kinds, they say...well, say something, kyria, I don't bite! Couldn't from here, anyway, if I wanted to, which I don't. Speak up!"

"Um." It took a moment to marshal her thoughts after this impressive verbal flood. "Hello...sir. it's very good to meet you."

"There, now. Lovely manners you've got! Brought up well! Not like _some_ I've met." He slipped a wink that would have been sly had it not been on so massive a face. "Well then. The mortals. Yes, I got myself tied up on this cold mountain, all because I wanted to help them. Whole damned operation went wrong. Start to finish. Do you know the story? Or whatever mad rumors they've twisted it into, over there?"

Persephone fidgeted. "I'm afraid I don't," she admitted. "Will you tell me?"

"Of course, little one," he said, magnanimously. "It's not so long a story. Sit down out of the wind, though!"

They arranged themselves in a sheltered spot - Hades wrapping part of his cloak around the goddess, supplementing the coat - and listened quietly.

Prometheus seemed to appreciate an audience.

***

“Well, the first thing you should know is that it was very early days, when this all started,” the Titan said cheerfully. His words rolled out between the mountain peaks like melodious thunder. “There weren’t many of us - the Titans - and all the little life, the mortal animals and things, those were just being created. My brother and I were told to hand out gifts - I did like that bit! Claws, feathers, sharp teeth, strong legs for jumping, swiftness, hard scales, thick fur…”

Prometheus trailed off, looking rather abashed.

“And THAT...is when I took a nap,” he said ruefully. “Building a world is terribly hard! And while I wasn’t watching, my brother sort of… ran the well dry, a bit. Lost track in his excitement! So there’s all the life all around, each with its own special property - some with two or three! And these poor little apes left with nothing!

“Felt sorry for them, I did. Epimethius just got carried away. Not the boy’s fault, really. But here’s these things, almost naked, totally helpless, but they had… _something_. They’d gang up on a beast bigger than twelve of them and take it down with sticks! And if one of ‘em got hurt, well. Other beasts will leave a hurt one to die, not risk the rest of the pack. These ones, they’d carry the poor bugger back to the cave, feed him, keep him alive! And they didn’t really speak, you know, not like you and I speak, they’d just grunt at each other and wave their hands around, but that was better than most life could do. They knew we were around, and they knew we were different, and they started, do you know, giving us presents _back_? Leave a bit of meat out on a rock!”

A shiver climbed Persephone’s spine as the Titan reminisced. He was so _old_. Older than Hades. As old as the world itself!

“That meat thing - well, the war came, the big one, and I helped Zeus a little - didn’t like the way Cronus had been running things. Not at all. So I gave Zeus the idea to spring the Hecatonchires, the hundred-armed giants, out of Tartarus - sorry, Hades, before your time, wouldn’t dream of interfering now - and have them throw boulders at the Titan army. And it worked! You should’ve seen them run, little Goddess! I’ll never forget it. 

“So now, Zeus rules the Universe, and he wants everybody to know it and act accordingly. He got wind of these monkey things and he wanted his share of the meat! So… I maybe played a bit of a trick on him.” The giant eye winked at Persephone. “Wrapped the good stuff up in a bit of stomach, looked quite gruesome! Wrapped the bones in some luscious belly fat! And had him choose!”

Laughter made snow cascade from the peak; Hades and Persephone lifted into the air a few feet to avoid the rolling, plunging stuff.

“Ahhh, well,” Prometheus sighed. “Hades, you know how your brother is, of course. Little lady, have you met him?”

Persephone nodded.

“He wasn’t best pleased. Got hot under the collar, and took it out on the apes! They’d had a little - what’d you call it - a spark, something. A tiny little flicker of the godhead in them. You could see they were learning and building. Fascinating, really. But Zeus just - “ here he snapped his fingers - “poof, took it away. If he couldn’t have the good stuff, hey, nobody could. He made them into beasts again, huddling in their caves, no more crackin’ rocks to make knives or painting pictures on the walls. Or talking to us. And - it didn’t sit right with me, Goddess. No, it did not.

“So I stole it. Just a tiny bit, from where Zeus had hidden it away. And I gave it back.”

Sighing in satisfied memory, the titan rested his head back against the stone. “Ooh, Zeus was ANGRY!” he said, sounding very pleased with himself. “And so here I am, chained up in the cold. In perpetuity. At least it’s consistent.”

“...And the bird?” Hades asked.

“Ah… yes.” Prometheus cleared his throat. “There is this great fucking bird that flies down out of the East every night and pecks out my liver.”

Persephone winced. “But that’s awful!”

“The first few hundred years were pretty bad,” he agreed. She saw, now, the tracery of scars across his abdomen. “But eventually it was either go mad or get over it. You can deal with anything, if y’put your mind to it.” 

“You’ve been chained to a mountan...for hundreds of years - “

“Oh, a millennia at least!” he corrected enthusiastically.

“.... a THOUSAND years... “ she said slowly. “Having one of your internal organs torn out every night. And you just. Got over it.”

“Right as rain!” he boomed.

Persephone stared at him for a few moments. Then she looked at Hades, who shrugged.

“The Titans were always… different,” he said.

“Well, and look at what it’s done! Those helpless monkeys hiding in caves, look what they are now! They’ve gone and built little Olympuses for themselves, beautiful art, incredible music, statues, _food_... sailing on the ocean in wooden ships! Building clever devices! They’re like Gods in miniature, really. Just brilliant. I don’t half mind being stuck up here, for that. And for getting another one over on Zeus.” He nodded, as if to approve of his own ingenuity. “That’s all a Titan can ask for, isn’t it?”

“And the rest of it?” Hades said quietly, leaning towards the Titan. “The girl.”

There was a pause. Prometheus closed his eyes, and Persephone almost thought he had fallen asleep.

“All-Gifted,” he said, slowly. “What a name. You weren’t involved in that, either, Hades, or we wouldn’t be having this little chat. All-gifted. They took a mortal girl, and they raised her like a princess in a tower. Gave her beauty, charm, eloquence, intelligence. Grace. Humor. Just a _jewel_ of a human. The girl, and the box; that was Zeus’ revenge on mortality, for daring to reach.

“So he and his little clique, they made her a beautiful bauble, and they sent her down to those who wouldn’t be able to resist her, and wouldn’t know until too late that she was carrying poison. All the ill will of Zeus King of the Universe wrapped in a shiny package.” 

The sorrow was writ clear on his face. “That,” he murmured, “that part I regret. For them - and for her. Is she a shade now, Hades, among all the others she sent to you? Working in your factory? Forgotten?”

Hades did not answer; his hand tightened on Persephone’s.

When had he taken her hand? Or had she reached out for him? She couldn’t remember.

“I wonder what they think of me, down there,” Prometheus mused sadly. “If they even do? Would they say my choice was right?”

Persephone, standing, let Hades’ hand go, and moved towards the Titan. Her heart was welling up within her. Thawing… cracking.

She put her hand, tiny as a petal in comparison, palm-down against his cheek. 

“Twenty mortals died because I slept with one,” she whispered.

His granite-irised eye opened, and focused on her. It reflected her shame and sorrow, her regret.

Her tears.

“Then, little Goddess,” he whispered back. “We both know what it is… to be someone’s doom.”

He knew. He understood.

The knowledge rocked her, that she was not alone in her awful sin, that someone else existed who had this same burden. Someone whose eyes said _I loved, and my love destroyed._

Wasn’t the doom of love what she’d been afraid of in the first place?

Lowering her head, Persephone leaned against the chained Titan, and allowed her tears to flow, scorching against her chilled face like molten iron.


	14. Full Circle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is what brings you home.

"Ahh...there, there. Let it come out," the Titan murmured to the goddess who wept against his shoulder. "Let go of it. Let go."

She cried and cried, for herself, for the dead, for Sorza, for Hades. Everything in her hurt and tangled heart coming out in wrenching sobs broken by gasps of thin, frigid air. She knew they were watching her, but once those floodgates opened, there was no closing them again, not until her reservoir of pain was emptied.

And eventually it was.

She caught her breath, slowly, and palmed the tears from her face. Sniffled like a child.

"Aidoneus, let me talk to the young lady. Fly around the other side of the mountain, will you, good lad."

Hades hesitated, looking at her with a face full of worry lines. "Persephone…" he said.

"No, yes, it's all right. Just for a few minutes," she answered his unasked question. 

She felt him staring a message at the Titan - one that needed no words - and then he lifted away from the stone and was gone. 

"Well," Prometheus asked her, almost whispering - a mountain peak wasn't far enough to keep anyone from hearing him at his usual volume. "Feeling lighter? A bit emptied out, I'll bet?"

"That...is a good way to put it," she said, and shook her head. "I shouldn't, though. I shouldn't get to feel better."

She felt his chuckle reverberate through her body, a tiny earthquake.

"The world doesn't stop for our grief," he told her. "We couldn't bear it. Your body is protecting your mind right now; that's the numbness, hey? Like that coat, keeping the cold away. Pain will come back, breaking through, sometimes - like it just did - but not as a constant. Not until you're strong enough to live through it."

She was silent for a moment, thinking.

"What if I'm not? Strong enough. Ever."

The giant head turned to scrutinize her.

"Ah, you will be, young one," he told her, and his voice was warm and kind. "I feel the life in you. One day, just wait, you'll blossom back up out of the snow."

For a moment they were silent together, watching the blue, blue sky above.

"...I'm afraid," she whispered.

He smiled at her.

"Do it anyway," he said. "There's no safety in life. No surety, no promises. That's stagnation. You're not a rock. You're a real person, with a real heart, and you just...follow it, through grief and sorrow, to whatever's next. That's all."

"Follow my heart," she echoed.

"Yes, do," he agreed mildly. "It's gone round t'other side of the mountain, I believe."

She shot the Titan a look, embarrassed and astonished, and his laughter shook the mountain.

***

He called for Hades, and the god returned hastily. Visibly relaxing when he saw Persephone on her feet again.

"Take her home, Aidoneus! This is no place for a lady! Far too cold and boring!" 

"Thank you, Prometheus." Hades bowed, respectful, and reached out for Persephone's hand, but she hesitated, troubled eyes on the bound Titan.

"Is there anything we can do?" She said, in a rush. "This is so wrong…"

"Ah, lady, you've a good heart. No." He shifted against the stone, and shook his head. "There's no need for the two of you to put yourselves in Zeus' bad books. My time will come. Not even mountains last forever, after all!

"Though… I wouldn't be averse to visitors. It _does_ get quiet this high up."

"I promise." Persephone laid her hand against his shoulder for a moment. "I think we have a lot to talk about."

"Good! Very good!" Prometheus boomed, as his visitors joined hands and began to rise into the air above him. "Guard her well, Aidoneus! Guard him well, Persephone! And remember what I told you!"

Then he began to sing, joyfully, in some ancient Titanic tongue, filling the sky with reverberating sound that followed them all the way down, echoing, ringing through the valleys below like a bell.

***

"Where will you go?" Hades asked, as Olympus swelled before them.

"I need to stop at Aphrodite's," Persephone said. "To see Eros. I've had my phone off for days. He's probably worried about me."

"Yes...I imagine you're right." 

They slowed, and then stopped, before entering the city. Hades seemed...withdrawn? Reserved? Or was it hesitance? 

"I thought," she asked, "that maybe I could stay with you for a while? I can't go back to Artemis. Don't want to go back to my mother. And there's so little room at Aphrodite's with Ares back…"

They hung in the air, looking at each other.

"We have things to talk about," she said quietly, and reaching out, took his hand in hers.

"Everything I have is yours, Kore." He said, gently, cradling her hand with infinite gentleness. "If you want it - whenever you want it. However long that takes."

Greatly daring, she pulled his hand to her face - or herself to his hand - and pressed her soft cheek into his palm. Heard his indrawn breath.

"I do need some time." Looking up at him, at his awed and hopeful face, she tried a tiny smile. "But...maybe not as much as I thought."

"It's normal to need a rest after a long journey," he said, as they slowly resumed their flight. "And you traveled far."

"But it's good to come home," she told him.

"Yes," he murmured, the light of hope in his eyes. "It is."


	15. There And Back Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A coda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't quite done with WWO after all, or it wasn't done with me. Thank you all for reading!

He gave Persephone a suite of rooms to be her own, her sitting-room and bedroom, bath and office. Up on the top floor of his mansion, and on the opposite side from his own rooms. It seemed more...polite. A place for her to retreat when she needed to. A door she could lock. Once he specified that she could decorate that space, and introduced her to the contractors he worked with, she drove into the project with determined concentration, letting it take up the free time that otherwise would have been filled with her thoughts (which were still so very tangled). 

He told her not to worry about cost. To consider it a test of her organizational skill, her ability to plan and to direct other professionals. She gave him skeptical eyes at the time, but eventually the charm of so much *space* overwhelmed her inner objections. For several weeks he would come down to the kitchen for breakfast only to find her already dressed, poring over pictures of furniture or upholstery on her laptop, or on the phone discussing measurements and the comparative value of modern vs. Regency styles.

He let himself give very little direction.

"Go with your heart," he told her on a night when she seemed frustrated, overwhelmed with options.

The look he got in return was inscrutable, but she calmed down and returned to the project with renewed determination.

He strove to be accessible without being intrusive.

He strove not to ask about the boy.

Neither task was easy.

But as the weeks passed, he saw her gradually relaxing into herself. Her brittleness eased. She smiled more, and more genuinely, and that was worth...anything. That she would be happy, and more - that she would come to know her own ability, her strength and worth. That Apollo's crime had not stained her virtuous heart; that Artemis' violent revenge had broken it, but...hearts could heal, with time.

He heard her crying, sometimes, on his silent night patrol through the halls when sleep would not come. Slow sobs that ate away at his heart. But grieving was part of healing. And Cerberus was there for her; the beast would glance at his master before shrinking and ghosting through the door. 

An animal's love was pure and undemanding. Certainly better for her than his poorly hidden feelings.

He did not pry into her project. Workers and delivery people came and went, objects carried upstairs or brought down to be hauled away. Rolls of carpet, pieces of furniture wrapped thickly in cushioning material. Packages large and small. 

She invited Eros over - he appearing to have forgiven her any slight from her absence - and they closed themselves up in her rooms for hours.

He came down to the kitchen one night, a sketchbook under one arm, and leaned against the counter, looking at Hades who had been finishing his...fifth?...cup of coffee at the table, unread work reports from Underworld HQ spread out messily before him.

"She fell asleep upstairs," he told his host. "I just need a quick glass of water and I'll be out of your hair."

"Take your time," Hades said. "Persephone's guests are welcome here."

The younger God filled a glass and drank deeply.

"You - this is good water - you're doing well," he said, and sat at the table. "Don't think I don't see how hard this is on you."

Hades eyes Eros, and cleared his throat. "I'm fine," he lied. "I haven't been through any of the hardships Persephone has. All I've done is given her a safe place, which she should have had from the beginning."

Eros made a rude noise.

"You have a _heart_ , Hades," he chided. "You've been wearing yourself out hiding it from her, but I know all and see all."

Hades picked up his coffee cup, ready to prepare a withering response, and...stared into the depths of black liquid. And said nothing.

"Like I said," Eros continued, "you're doing well. She needed distance, and she needed responsibility. Something to prove she wasn't all broken like she thought. How've you been dealing with it?"

"Work." He said without looking up. "Swimming. Taking the dogs out to run. More work."

"Good things," Eros said. "You're both healing. Honestly it's killing me how slow you two are moving, but I am _not_ a great role model." Standing, he took his glass to the sink, then returned to place a hand on Hades' shoulder.

"You're getting there," he said, encouraging. "I think - when her rooms are done…"

"Have a safe flight home," Hades said forbiddingly.

Eros chuckled, and left.

Hades, annoyed but also comforted, ran both hands through his hair, sighed, and went to bed.

***

He came home, some days later, to a note on the fridge door, in her sweet round hand.

_Project complete. Come upstairs._

He looked down at Big John, who tilted her head quizzically and whined at him.

"It’s go time," he told her.

He climbed the stairs, two bottles of flavored water cold from the fridge in his hands. There was a fragrance in the hallway to her rooms, growing as he approached the door, but not overpowering; a warm, soft woodsy scent shot through with tiny floral kisses. 

It was nice.

He rapped the back of one full hand against the door, and heard a muffled "Come in!" from beyond. 

Inside was...not what he had expected.

The lush carpet underfoot was a deep heather grey, with a graceful pattern of twining black lines. The walls were smooth, glowing cream. Inviting couches in muted jewel tones bookended the room. Small tables, a bookcase, a little chandelier with thin glass panes tinted antique gold and mild, subtle rose. Candles in little jars. A lattice hung on one wall supported some light, climbing vine.

There was a fat wingback chair near the window, and Persephone was there, in a t-shirt and leggings, one foot tucked up under her, the other swinging free. She sat there and smiled at him, nervous and proud, as he took in the room.

"I like this," he said eventually. "It's… soft. Welcoming."

"And not as pink as you feared," she said.

He focused his eyes on her, quirking an eyebrow, and clasped his hands to his chest as if covering a wound. "A hit!" He cried. 

"You," she said with a twinkling eye, "are _melodramatic_."

He gasped and pressed the back of one hand to his forehead, feigning a swoon; and she giggled, and it was everything.

After a few seconds of just...basking in her happiness, Hades remembered why his hands were full, and held out a bottle for her. "A cold drink for the hard-working designer," he said. "It's just fruit water. I should have brought you champagne."

"No, this is perfect! Refreshing. I don't really enjoy alcohol that much...sweet drinks are too sticky and non-sticky drinks aren't sweet enough." She popped the bottle cap off and drank deeply, making a soft pleased sound. 

He shivered. Watched her throat move with each long swallow. Turned his gaze away just in time.

"You've done really well with the space. Making it your own," he said. "Bravo."

"I liked working with the contractors," she said thoughtfully. "They knew so much, and didn't mind answering my questions, or brainstorming with me, but still following my - my vision? Oof, that sounds pretentious. But...that's what it was, in the end."

"I think it sounds exactly right," he told her.

She set her water aside, and stood. "Do you want to see the rest?" She asked him, with feigned diffidence. "There's no real change in theme…" 

A blush rode her cheekbones as she glanced at him. She meant her bedroom, he realized, and cleared his throat.

"Persephone, that's your personal space," he said to her, quietly. "I certainly trust your vision with it. If you'd like to show me, I would like that. If you'd rather keep it private, that's fine, too."

She sighed out a breath.

"Maybe in a few days?" Her smile grew a little crooked, but didn't fade. 

"Of course." Half-turning away, he gestured toward the open door. "If not champagne, shall we celebrate your project with pizza?"

Her face brightened; and with it, his heart.

They went downstairs together, talking lightly, their hands almost touching.

***

He came home prepared to talk with her about returning to work, but changed his mind as soon as he stepped inside. Persephone was on the living room couch, lying on her back with her legs hooked over the arm, socked feet dangling. She was in sweats, and looked...exhausted. One arm over her eyes, the other trailing to the floor where her phone lay facedown on the rug. Her hair had grown.

"Hades," she mumbled.

"Sweetness, are you all right? What happened?" He dropped his briefcase and rushed to her, knelt next to her, gently palmed her forehead to check her temperature. "Are you sick?"

She lowered her arm to look up at him, and he saw tear tracks on her face, misery in her eyes.

"Mother called," she sighed.

He winced. Demeter had not, as far as he was aware, come to see her daughter since Persephone had returned from the mortal realms; but he knew there had been long emails, and phone calls that left Persephone sad, or angry, or bitter. Or sometimes all three.

"She still wants you back home?" He asked gently. He pulled his hand away from her forehead, but she made a soft sound of protest, one he could not resist. He stroked her hair gently, letting just his fingertips comb through it, and she sighed with what sounded like relief.

"She just...won't listen to me. It's infuriating and it makes me sad," Persephone said. He could feel the tension of her frown under his hand. "And I'm realizing that...I can't change her, or wait around for her to change. I have to keep going forward. And...that means leaving her behind."

Her voice wavered. "How can I do that? Be strong enough for that? Why does it have to be a choice between betraying her, and betraying myself? It's not _fair_."

"It's not a betrayal just because she thinks it is," he said. "That's the unfairness. It's not right for her to ask for your whole life. And...you're strong enough to be your own person. You're stronger than I am."

"Flattery." She laughed, and pressed her head more firmly against his hand. "I approve."

They sat there for a while, quiet, connected by that gentle touch, and it was...good.

"I told her I wasn't coming back," she said eventually. "I don't belong there."

 _You belong here,_ his heart whispered; but it was only his heart, and she did not hear.

Eventually they got up and had dinner.

Things felt strange, that night, after they'd finished the dishes. Persephone wandered mothlike through the whole house, vanishing into her rooms for a while, then drifting through the kitchen, examining the titles of the books in his study. Alighting in the living room to pet one of the dogs, perching near where Hades sat pretending to read, then roving away again.

He was strongly aware of the white shift dress she had changed into, of her bare feet moving hushed across the carpet, of her subtle perfume. The way her moving disrupted air currents in the room. How _real_ she was.

She was sitting on the stairs when he abandoned his book and headed for bed; he stopped on the bottom stair, and she met his eyes with a small, thoughtful smile.

"Kore…what's going on?"

She stood, and their differing elevation along the stairs put her at exactly his height.

"Leap of faith," she said. And leaned forward, back straight, giving in to gravity.

He caught her, pulling her tiny body in against him; she was hot as a flame, almost searing his palms where they touched the bare flesh of her arms.

She kissed him.

Her mouth was soft and hot against his and he gave in immediately, opening to her, letting her taste and explore. She kissed hungrily, completely, and his mind emptied of thought; there was nothing but Persephone, her plush body clinging to him, her little moans humming into his mouth.

He set her down onto the stairs and knelt, his body over hers, so his broad hand could roam her curves. The full swell of a hip, the sweet curve of her lower back, a velvety length of thigh. Her arms twined around his neck, pulling him down, and they sank into each other.

She broke the kiss first, breathing hard. “Hades,” she whispered against his mouth. “Feel what you’ve done to me.”

She took his hand in her own, and placed it flat against her stomach, right below the ribcage; he felt the heave of her breathing, the heat of her through the soft cotton of her dress. Slowly he moved his hand up to lie between her breasts and felt the flutter of her heart against his palm.

He lowered his head, resting against her shoulder, dazed. "Sweetness," he murmured against her throat, and she shifted beneath him. Both of them trembling. "Are you sure?"

"I'm done hiding," she said. "I'm done being afraid. Let's see what happens."

Another kiss, scorching, and he slid his hand across her softness to cup one heavy breast, the hard nub of her nipple pressing into his palm. She arched under him and moaned into the kiss; he took the tight, crinkled peak between thumb and forefinger, lightly squeezing and tugging, and her head fell back onto the stair, dark-eyed with shocked pleasure.

"Good?" He asked, indulgent, thick-voiced with lust, and she responded by grabbing his other hand and bringing it up to mirror its twin. No question what she needed; he gave it to her willingly, deliberate fingers finding her pleasure and manipulating it, gently rolling and pulling as she cried out beneath him. She laid her hands over his, keeping him in place, and he swallowed her delicious cries in another soul-shaking kiss. 

He could stay like this forever. But she deserved more than a _stairwell_.

Her disappointment, when his hands moved from her breasts, was cut off by a squeak of surprise when he slid an arm around her back and lifted her up, easily, as if she were weightless. He cradled her in his arms like a bride and within a moment's passing, they were upstairs. 

"Hades - my rooms," she said, and he detoured without question. Down the hall, through the sitting room with its rose and gold glow, into a bedroom that stopped him in his tracks.

It was filled with light.

The huge four-poster bed was hung with layers of gauzy curtain, and strings of fairy lights woven among them, creating a starry bower. More lights decked the window, twined along the tops of the walls, dripped down either side of the closet door. Their soft glow gilded the room.

"Sweetness...it's beautiful," he said. Surprised and pleased. He looked down and saw the smug happiness in her face. "It's perfect."

"I'm so pleased that you like it, Your Majesty," she said with a playfully exaggerated politesse that made his blood boil. He set her down, and firmly, slowly, shut the door. Reigniting the sweet tension between them. He watched as she drew in a deep, steadying breath.

"Take off your shirt," she told him.

He complied, wordlessly, unbuttoning and sliding out of the dress shirt, letting it fall to the floor. He was blind for a moment, pulling the undershirt up over his head, and when he could see again she was _right there_ , looking at him. 

She touched him, a single fingertip trailing a line of fire across his stomach, and said, "You're beautiful."

Her eyes, flicking up to meet his, were dark and wide, hungry. 

He knew his were the same.

She rose up on tiptoe, and he bent down to meet her. They kissed deep and sweet, rocking gently with the rhythm of it, the moving give-and-take; her pursuit and then his. His hands spanning her back, caressing; finally discovering the little hidden zipper, and pulling it down just an inch, experimental. 

She pulled closer into him and made a wordless sound of approval.

Delicately, deliberately, he drew the bit of metal down, and down, past the curve of her ass, until the light fabric separated completely, and she let go of him just long enough to wriggle out of it. 

She had been nude underneath the dress.

A groan wrenched out of Hades and he pulled her up into his arms again; her legs wrapping around his waist, arms around his neck, and the whole of her body pressed against his chest, nothing at all between. She was light, soft as silk, furnace hot against his belly; he could, he realized, feel her scorching wetness on his bare skin.

Turning them, he collapsed backward onto her bed, sucking in breath, cradling her.

"You're impossible," he sighed. "I may not survive this."

"You left your pants on," she said. "No fair making me work for it."

She was a glowing vision above him, her hair a backlit halo of curls. Lust flushed her skin a darker rose. He reached out and cradled the side of her face in one big hand, brushing his thumb against her bottom lip; and breathed out an oath when she opened her mouth, sliding down around the thick digit, her tongue darting around it soft and wet. Muscles in his groin twitched and tightened.

She held his eyes as she sucked at him, moving in a deliberate, obvious reference, and he answered by moving his free hand to her hip and pushing down as he arced up beneath her; letting her feel the length of his erection pressed hard against her, grinding her over it. 

Thoroughly distracted, she let his hand fall away and closed her eyes, forehead creasing slightly in concentration. "A - again," she demanded, breathy.

He obliged. Both hands on her hips, now, lifting and positioning her, slowly rolling up and then down beneath her. She leaned forward, resting her hands on his chest, and took up the rocking motion by herself; he watched as she rode him, seeking her own pleasure, and felt delirious and blissful. 

Panting. Grinding. Lost in her need. He took his hands away, letting her move on her own, and watched her mouth fall open when he found her breasts again, tweaking and thumbing her nipples. 

"Oh...oh!" She said, and then cried out, her trembling voice filling the room. "Oh, Hades!"

He felt her slip over the edge. Waves shaking through her body. He let go and slipped his arms around her, pulling her down, supporting her as she shook through her climax.

"Good, good," he was murmuring to her. "You came so good, Sweetness. So beautiful. Goddess. Just relax. Feel how it rolls through you."

"Hhnmmmm," she said.

***

They lay tangled there for a while. He rubbed her back, and slowly her breathing steadied. He ached...but it was a good ache; it was worth anything to lie here, holding her. 

"Did you come?" She asked eventually, and he chuckled.

"No, but that's all right. We don't have to go further if you aren't ready. That was…" he smiled down at her. "Amazing."

"It _was_ amazing," she agreed, and slid herself sideways off of his chest. Reaching down, she pulled free the button of his trousers, and he inhaled sharply.

"Unless you don't want me to?" Persephone looked back up at him; she was disheveled and mischievous and still glowing. The zipper tab held lightly between her fingertips.

"Please," he said, "I definitely do want."

She smirked; then she pulled, and he lifted up, and then he was naked in her bed and she was...staring. At his face.

"Everything all right?" He asked, amused.

She huffed at him. "Just give me a minute! It's a big step." She trailed one slow hand down from his chest, over his stomach, feeling her way. "I mean. I _felt_ you...but looking is a little different."

"You set the pace," he told her. "You're adorable, though."

Further teasing was cut off when he felt her questing hand wrap around him. Banked fires rekindled in a blaze; he groaned and let his head fall back.

She traced his length, first hesitantly, then growing more sure. Hades gripped the blanket beneath him and tried not to writhe, or buck up into her touch; anything that might startle her. His sounds, though, were inevitable. 

Both her hands were around him, now, tight and hot. He felt the rest of the world slipping away. Nothing mattered but his goddess and her touch, and the blazing, tightening ache in his belly.

And she let go.

His head jerked up from the pillow at this sudden abandonment. But she wasn't gone. She slung a leg over him and suddenly, deliciously, he felt the heat and wet of her again.

She looked down at him, and for a moment the radiant light behind her was a halo...a crown.

Then she was sliding down, stretching and filling herself with his straining cock, and he felt the velvet fire inside her, and couldn't stand it.

"Kore!" He gasped, and gripped her thighs, arching beneath her so sharply that her knees left the mattress for a second; then again, and again, his control shredded by her sweetness. She clung to his arms and he heard her cries of pleasure; she rocked and thrust with him, her head lolling back on her shoulders. 

"More!" She begged, or commanded, and he growled his agreement. He rolled them over in the bed, pinning her beneath him, spreading his knees to push her legs higher and further apart; and pulling her head back, he kissed her again, all their cries and gasps subsumed into that connection. 

The whole room around them was engulfed in their fire; the whole world was.

She began shuddering beneath him, her little toes curling, legs around his hips pulling him in, and lightning pleasure shot up his spine and exploded in his head. He felt the long, tight convulsions of her orgasm around him, and let go. Coming apart. Vaporizing. 

***

Persephone blinked up at the golden haze above her. Eventually she remembered that it was the ceiling.

Hades was lying on her. He was an agreeable, soft weight, warm and solid, anchoring.

She had not been destroyed.

Rather, it seemed, she was melted and reformed; strengthened, annealed in flame and rebuilt with an inner core of shining steel.

She felt whole. She felt invincible.

Hades murmured something unintelligible into her ear, and she stroked his hair, and smiled. 

She'd found home, after going so far.

And it was good.

**Author's Note:**

> I set this work in the late 12th century BCE, in the decades after the Trojan war. There really were funeral-mound-building Thracian nomads in the lands east of Greece at that time, though all clan and personal names in this work are my own invention. 
> 
> A little historical and geographical background:
> 
> When Persephone met the Thraki nomads, they were crossing a grassy lowland (of my own invention) nestled in the (real) hills north of Limni Vistonida, the delta of the Nestos river in eastern Greece, where the Bulgarian border draws near to the Aegean Sea.
> 
> Man's best friend, Canis familiaris - the domestic dog - was the first species to be domesticated by humans from Eurasian gray wolves at least 15,000 years ago.
> 
> Horses were first domesticated in the Ukrainian grasslands 6,000 years ago - the 4th millennium BCE, in the time of Sumer and Egypt, and the spread of agriculture.
> 
> The wheel was invented sometime around 3500 BCE, in Mesopotamia. The Bronocice pot, a piece of pottery discovered in Poland and dating to at least 3370 B.C., is believed to feature the earliest depiction of a wheeled vehicle. The evidence suggests that small wagons or carts, likely drawn by cattle, were in use in Central Europe by this time in human history.
> 
> Papyrus was used as a writing material as early as 3,000 BC in ancient Egypt, and continued to be used to some extent until around 1100 AD.


End file.
